Ship of Theseus
by Yonkonkaroo Amora
Summary: If this body is not your's, are you still the same? If these memories are not your's, are you still you? Where is the divide between who we were and who we are now? There's too many new faces and not enough old ones.
1. Wake Up Norman!

Everything was white. Like he was swimming in a white abyss. Floating through the memories of his life that would soon be no more. The memories of Emma...that would soon be no more.

He hid his face behind his arms, working hard to force back tears. The lump in his throat grew anyway.

He was a fucking idiot. A goddamn imbecile. Screw all those perfect test scores, he didn't know what the hell he was doing. Everything he'd planned. Everything he'd worked for. All the pain. Meaningless. It all fell like a house of cards. So many friends dead and nothing to show for it. Some boss he was.

Giran's army? Wiped out in the blink of an eye by royal forces. There was hardly even a fight. The home he'd made for all of the children he'd saved? Found within days and burned to the ground, killing nearly everyone on site. His brilliant plan to kill the royals? The mission killed his whole team; the people who depended on him so much. He'd killed the queen, but others took revenge. She and her forces were far stronger than any of them could have imagined and they were sitting ducks to the other demons.

Some God he was.

He let his rage lead him and neglected to take into account that the creatures he was fighting had loyalties and relationships too; that they'd want revenge. He failed to plan for everything; he just wanted retribution and quick. Maybe he and the demons really weren't that different, despite what Ray and Emma told him.

He was just a mess. Keeping secrets because he thought it would protect people. Keeping his feelings bottled up so as not to burden others with them. Keeping others away because he was so determined to do it himself. He didn't think about the feelings of others..

If not for Emma and Ray, he would have been dead already too. He couldn't even die himself. He felt pathetic. Now he was just facing a purgatory of white, alone.

He felt more alone than he'd ever felt before, and that was saying something.

He's sobbing now, arms covering a face tear stained and ashamed. Like a child…

_Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic..._

He lost her. He couldn't protect her or anyone else. He couldn't bear losing her. But she was gone.

_**NO! EMMA!**_

His voice from that time still echoed in his mind. Ray is pinning him to the ground, partially holding him back, hands gripped tightly around his shirt and the back of his head, and partially wanting to run to her himself. He can feel Ray ready to launch off his back at any moment, face is pained and tears are spilling from him freely, but he's pleading with Norman because they'd made a decision.

They'd made a decision without him.

He wants to take over his body in that moment and fight Ray off him but all he can remember in that moment is his screams and cries. He wants to be the one to die. Not her. God, please not her.

Every muscle in his chest ceases up and he struggles to hold back his tears as he remembers her response which came with a smile.

_**It's okay Norman. I have to do this so everyone will be safe. So we can all be happy. And even if I don't make it…even if I don't remember…**_

_**I had so much fun, Norman! Ray!**_

…

Everything is warm. Not warm in the comfortable way, but warm in the feverish way. Every muscle aches and he's too heavy to even move a toe.

It's a familiar feeling. He used to get sick like this back at Gracefield too. Then…Mama would come and stroke his hair, sometimes humming a lullaby.

His eyes are too heavy to open. His ears feel like they're crammed full of mud, but he hears the distant beeping of machines. Machines he's heard before back at Lambda. And there's a hand stroking his face, gently pushing the hair back from his forehead.

Norman really wants to open his eyes, but everything is heavy, like he's being crushed by pressure deep under the ocean. The only difference is the machines getting louder.

There's a voice too.

"Norman…?" it's a man's voice, he can tell by how deep it is. It sounds like he's underwater, but the voice is gentle. It makes him feel safe, he doesn't know why though.

Norman really, really wants to open his eyes.

"Norman…? Norman, can you hear me?" the voice is getting clearer and a bit more desperate. The hand stroking his hair back is gone too; instead he feels something sink down next to his head.

His body finally allows him to move and he shifts slightly. He's laying on something soft, and he assumes it's a bed, although it feels foreign and completely uncomfortable. Perhaps that's the smell of disinfectant.

It smells like Lambda. It feels like Lambda.

_**Oh god I'm back at Lambda.**_

_**Who is this? Who's here? Who's touching me?**_

His body locks up in exhaustion as he tries to move once again. His breathing is frantic as he fights off sleep, but his eyelids won't budge. He hears the voice again:

"Norman, don't worry, daddy's here. Everything is going to be okay. Don't worry, just try to rest."

The hand on his forehead was there once again. Despite every voice in his head telling him not to, he relaxes.

But his brain is going 100 miles an hour.

_**Daddy?**_

_**Mama had referred to Peter Ratri as "Daddy" but…the man had refused to be addressed as such. **_

_**I would never call that monster "Daddy" anyway.**_

_**But this…isn't his voice…**_

_**It sounds almost the same, but deeper.**_

_**I've heard this voice before…**_

His eyelids finally give way to the world around him. It's white, like he expected. It looks like Lambda.

And there's a man who looks suspiciously like Peter Ratri hovering over his hair is far shorter than the other Ratri, and his features more mature and his smile is gentle and genuine.

There's a mix of emotions on his face: exhaustion, concern and relief, "Good morning, Norman" the man whispers, retreating back a bit to give him space.

Norman can only let out a weak chuckle as he stared at the man whose name he stole. The real William Minerva.

He's too weak to fight off sleep any more and so Norman once again succumbs to the darkness.

…

The beeping of machines comes to him quicker this time. There's something around his finger and tubes in places he'd rather them not be. There are a few in his nose is especially bothersome. With all these tubes in him he can't run, or else he'd be swiss cheese.

His body finally responds to his commands and he'd greeted by the white Lambda room once again. Or at least he thinks he is. Then he looks around.

The room is very large. There's a window letting in enough sunlight to blind him only a few steps away from his bed. The door is closed on the other side of the room, but there's some glass panels next to it hidden behind a blind, giving way to what he assumes is a hallway, due to the numerous feet passing by, on the other side. There was another door just to the left of his exit which looked to be a bathroom. A chair positioned close to the bed on his left told him where that man was sitting the last time he woke up.

That man…William Minerva. James Ratri.

It would be a stretch to say the man was his father. Sure, he was a genetic clone of the Ratri family but that just meant they were related, not...father and son.

Moreover, that man…was supposed to be dead.

_**How was he here? Was that a dream?**_

_**Where am I? This…doesn't look like Lambda. It smells like Lambda…but it's too bright...too busy...**_

Just then the door opens, and he's greeted by a heavy-set woman. Her dark, curly hair is up in a bun but poking out in a few spots and she's wearing plain pink clothing.

Her expression is tired but kind, "Oh, good morning Norman. Just in time for me to check on you. My name is Abigail, I'll be taking care of you today."

At first, he thought she was a Mama and his body tensed, but she wore no dress or apron or lab gown. In fact, she was completely different from any other adult he'd seen before, both in presence and appearance .

The woman approached him and took to examining the monitor he was hooked up to. After pressing a few buttons on it, a holographic screen appeared much like the one from the pen Sister Krone had gifted him and…

_**Emma...Ray…**_

He wasn't sure how but he remembered them. Ray's snarky comments. Emma's brilliance. None of his memories were gone, but there was still a crushing feeling of loss.

The woman continued looking down at a watch-like device before pressing a few buttons, allowing another holographic notebook sized screen to appear on her arm. She tapped on it a few times, comparing it to the monitor in front of her.. Norman could see the screen change with every tap, but somehow could not see the details of each screen.

"Well your temperature is almost back to normal. You gave everyone quite the scare!"

"Wha…" he didn't notice the tube that was in his nose continued down his throat until he tried to make a sound. It scratched against his windpipe and caught him off guard, prompting coughs that further irritated the area and made him gag. It was as thin as a straw and incredibly uncomfortable.

He unconsciously tugged at it a bit before the nurse's hand went to stop him, "No, honey, you don't want to pull them out. You've been out for a few days. Your father is right downstairs in the Café. He'll be back in a few minutes."

Norman wasn't sure he wanted him to come back. He was tired and confused. He just wanted to see his family again. He wanted to see Emma again.

He knew somewhere deep down it was impossible.

The woman continued on with what she was doing, and Norman found that the irritation wasn't just from the tube shoved up his nose, but his throat was for some reason raw and sore on it's own.

_**What happened to me?**_

"I'll be back with Doctor Smith in a bit Norman. Just be patient; not a lot of people come back from what you went through."

_**What had he 'gone through'?**_

The door opened before the woman could reach it and the man Norman had seen only briefly in what he thought was a dream stepped through.

William Minerva.

James Ratri.

Who was apparently his father? Or at least addressed himself as such.

"Oh, just in time! He just woke up Mr. Ratri. I'll go get so he can do a follow up." James Ratri nodded and with that, the woman shuffled out of the room, leaving only him and his 'father'.

As his attention turned to Norman, his relief was easily apparent, and he approached calmly "Good afternoon, Norman. Are you feeling better?"

The man leaned over as his hand softly glided toward Norman's face, causing the latter to unconsciously flinch back. A look of surprise lit James' face as he pulled away, "Norman?"

It was quickly replaced by patient resignation as the older man's gaze softened, "Ah I know…you're too old to be pet now."

James Ratri relaxed quickly and walked over to resume his sitting position between Norman and the window. The halo of light cast from the setting sun made it difficult to read his body language.

However, Norman could tell by his appearance this man was a mess. His tie was undone, his vest partially unbuttoned, and his hair was slightly unkempt. The bags under his eyes were alone enough to tell the man been awake for a while. This man looked like he'd been through hell.

"You probably don't remember what happened. Brita tried to wake you up a few days ago…" James stopped, as if choosing his words carefully. He suddenly looked even more tired, like he was recalling something exhausting, "Well, you had a very bad fever." his voice wandered off and he continued in a slightly lower tone, almost like a whisper, "You haven't been in the hospital this long in quite a while…"

The comment made Norman pause.

_**What?**_

Norman, to his knowledge, had never been in a hospital before, only read about them in books but he knew they were places that really sick and injured people went to, filled with doctors and medicines that could cure nearly anything. Norman's thoughts drifted to Lambda, which wasn't really much of a caregiving facility, more like hell, but it was the best point of reference he had. And then everything made sense; the smell of disinfectant and the buzzing and beeping of machines, the tubes covering his body.

_**Well, at least I know where I am now.**_

_**But...where am I actually? The demon world or...the human world?**_

Norman dared to hope for the latter, but the presence of James Ratri and the man's strange, comfortable behavior threw him off from making any assumptions. He had too many questions for the man who'd guided his family to safety, but no way to express them with the intense burning and scratching in his throat acting up.

All he knew was that something was off here.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Norman shifted a bit, trying to get a better view of the world around him. He managed to sit up but quickly lost energy and fell back, though James' hand caught him to guide him down a bit more easily.

"I know you don't like the hospital Norman, but you were unconscious for a week. You need to relax; you're not going to be right back on your feet." It sounded almost like the man was scolding him, but his concern came through more, "Smee will be here in a minute. You remember Smee right?"

Further confusion and panic set in. Norman's whole body felt numb.

_**Smee is supposed to be dead. I know he'd dead. I saw him die!**_

_**First the real William Minerva turns out to be alive and calls himself my dad...then Smee comes back from the dead? What's going on here?!**_

"Norman? Smee, your doctor since you were little? One of my friends? You've met him quite a few times..." James Ratri's questioning suddenly snapped him out of his contemplation and Norman realized he must not have been masking his emotions well enough.

The man looked concerned, confused even. To appease him, Norman gave a soft smile and a grunt of acknowledgment before being thrown into another coughing fit that once again nearly turned into gagging.

James rubbed his back a bit, "Hey bud, don't push yourself. We'll take the feeding tube out in as soon as Smee and Abigail come back. Just hold tight, I know it's uncomfortable."

Finally able to sit up, Norman could only think of how large James' hand felt on his back. Unusually large. He let out a few more coughs before looking at his legs.

Then he realized. Moving his toes a bit he recognized where his legs ended.

He'd shrunk. It was like his growth spurt had never happened.

His coughing stopped, but he could feel the blood drain from his face as he raised his arm, the one that for some reason had a clamp on it, to inspect it. His hand was half the size it normally was. The door opened from behind Norman's stretched palm and he recognized what he could only reason must be a ghost.

"Ah, Norman! Good to see you again."

While trying to recover, a new thought came to Norman.

_**Am I dead? Is this some kind of afterlife?**_


	2. Wake Up Ray!

To be honest, when he found out, he wished he never had. He wished he could have stayed with them forever, despite how everything was ruined.

Despite how many of their family had died, he selfishly wanted to stay with Emma and Norman. He wanted to stay with his family. But...

_**To escape and reforge The Promise, something of equal value must be lost.**_

That tiny god-creature spoke in his memories as he floated in white. This place should have been peaceful, but it was the farthest thing from it. All he could recall was the very first time he'd laid eyes on the tiny, cycloptic creature that haunted Emma's dreams and his cryptic words.

He knew what those words meant even at the time. He knew what had to be lost but...was it really worth it? Was it really worth losing their memories? Was it really worth losing her?

To be honest, probably. Logically, saving everyone at the cost of one life was a no brainer. Emma knew that, that's why she took the deal.

The walls were closing in on them and the demons were after blood. They'd killed the demon's families, even members of the royal family, and everyone had blood on their hands. Fury, hatred and revenge haunted either side and the war was looking to be never ending. That is, until Emma stepped in.

He was actually sort of proud of her. Emma was the last person who seemed like she'd sacrifice herself, at least when they were kids. She used to be the type of person to want to avoid losses at all cost, even when it wasn't feasible. She must have realized it was the end of the line. Something had to give and she was going to be the one to take the fall.

He'd tried to fight with the god creature. He even offered himself, but Emma stopped him.

_**No more sacrifices. I'll go.**_

There was no fighting her this time.

He let memories flow through him, holding on as tight as he could to every one, knowing they'd soon slip away. Memories of Emma. Memories of Norman. Memories of all of his family. Memories of happier times.

He settled on a quiet one: he's sitting under a tree reading, watching Emma and Norman play tag with their younger siblings. Even this memory is tainted though, as he recalls why they're playing tag in the first place.

Maybe getting new memories wouldn't be so bad. The ones he has currently are blighted at every edge by death and tragedy. Maybe a new life would be good. Then he hears her voice:

_**You have to let me do this!**_

He still can't believe there will be nothing left of her on the other side. Not even memories. She was lost forever and not a single person would remember her. The last person you could ever forget, a person who was like the sun itself, would never be remembered in the human world.

He decides that if there was the time to use his freak memory, he'll do it now. He won't forget her. Not ever. Screw the fucking deal, he'd cheat god out of his prize.

He once again sorts through his memories. Jemima and helping him cook. Giving a sleepy Chris a piggy-back ride to breakfast. Lannion and Thoma's antics nearly burning everything down. Don and Gilda helping him carry wood to the shelter. Anna cleaning one of the many wounds he sustained with Emma. Meeting Phil and Sherry again…

And he hopes they all make it to the other side safely and live wonderful lives. He hopes they never have to deal with anything like what they'd been through again. Even after everything, he makes that wish, even though he doesn't believe he has the right to.

He remembers Norman's screams as he held him down, one knee on his back, one hand gripping tight to his sleeve while the other held his head down. It was a decision that he and Emma both knew their friend would never agree to, and to be honest, under any other circumstance, he wouldn't either. But he pleaded with Norman to stay still. To let Emma go. It was her choice.

He held Norman down as he watched Emma go through the door. It was white on the other side, like this place, and he'd like to believe she was in heaven now. He knew that god creature would have his way with her first, but he begged any diety that would listen that it was quick an painless and now she was at peace.

As she walked through the all to familiar gate he screamed, not in pain, but in grief and frustration. It was unconscious and louder than he expected; he's never cried out like that before, but he's unable to choke back tears this time.

And then he remembers her words…

_**I don't wanna go with him. I don't want to die. But I don't want you to die either. I don't want all the people I love to die because I didn't take this chance.**_

Her last smile haunted him. Even facing that kind of suffering, it was unmarred by tears.

_**It's okay Norman. I have to do this so you'll be happy. So we can all be happy. And even if I don't make it…even if I don't remember…**_

_**I had so much fun, Norman! Ray!**_

…

The world is an inky black now. Everything was heavy. It's like his ears are stuffed with cotton. Honestly, his whole body feels like a stuffed animal, packed with lead. It's hard to breathe.

He's laying down, he knows that, but there's a weight on his shoulder and something warm wrapped around his left hand. A woman is sobbing. There's machines beeping. Otherwise, it's quite. Deathly quiet. It fills him with dread.

Judging by the hiccups, it's the woman who's leaning on his shoulder. Every sob that wracks her body transitions to his shoulder, jolting him painfully. He can feel damp tears on his skin and a tickle of hair against his neck.

Ray's throat hurt. Badly. It burned like someone stuck a hot fire iron down it. He lets out a moan, he knows he does, but he can't hear anything and it just makes his throat hurt worse. Like there's something stuck in it. His mouth is dry and his stomach feels like someone stabbed it about twenty times.

He wants to vomit but he can't move. He wants to open his eyes but everything is too heavy. The sobbing gets clearer nonetheless.

_**Who's crying?**_

He hears a faint: "My baby…my baby boy..." choked out between sobs.

_**Who?**_

There's another, larger, pair of calloused hand wrapped around his right hand, gripping tight, as though holding on for dear life. He feels a weight, as though someone is resting something on his thumb. There's a tickle of hair around his wrist as well.

_**Who?**_

The feeling of dread that had welled up previously was making its way up Ray's guts into his burning throat as he tried to make a sound, any sound, but nothing came out. He was unable to interact with the world and his eyes were still too heavy to open. Concerned, he tried his limbs once more, twitching his hands a bit

The reaction of the other two was almost immediate.

"Ray?!" two voices said in near unison. The weight on his shoulder and his hand lifted swiftly, though his hands were still being gripped tightly.

"Ray...Ray baby can you hear me?" a familiar voice asked frantically, repeatedly and anxiously touching his face, stroking his cheek and pushing his hair back. It's a bit obnoxious and he wants to pull away but he's too heavy.

He knew this voice. He knew this voice but he'd never heard it sound like that. His guts were turning, both at the implications and the previous pain.

"I'll go get the doctor." It was a man's voice this time, followed by the release of his hands, the rapid sound of footsteps and the click of a door opening then closing heavily.

Meanwhile, the woman's voice chanted in his ear, begging him to wake up, for him to be okay, "Ray...please...please open your eyes."

The weight on his eyelids lifted almost on que and he open them cautiously and exhaustedly. His heart nearly stopped as his eyes fell upon the woman.

His mother. Isabella.

He's as surprised by her presence as he was that he remembered her. Oddly, he remembered everything. Emma, Norman, Anna, Nat, Don,Gilda, Jemima, Chris…all the children of Gracefield were fresh in his memories as though he'd seen them yesterday.

Technically he had. Ray nearly smiled. He'd won.

He won against a god.

Isabelle looked a mess, nothing like the well kept woman that hung over him like death all his life. She looked more like she did the night they fled Gracefield: her hair hung loose and her face was tearstained and red. Her clothes were loose fitting and disheveled, like she hadn't changed in a while. She looked pale and scared. She looked small.

They locked eyes for a moment, blue-violet meeting brown, and a sort of sadness seemed to overtake her. She grabbed his face gently and lowered it to her shoulder, petting his hair and whispering words of comfort Ray could barely make out through the sobs that still shook her and the bleariness of sleep that threatened to take him again.

The only words he could recognize, chanted over and over, was "I'm sorry."

Despite the unconscious terror he felt seeing her again, he could no longer fight his exhaustion nor her and succumbed to sleep once more on her shoulder.

…

His sleep was dreamless. It once again felt like he was floating. All that slipped through the darkness was voices. Mama's voice. That man's voice. Other voices.

"_That asshole...won't even...his own son…"_

Bits and pieces...

"_Hey there...be here when you...Louie misses you..."_

Of conversations…

"_It honestly...brain de-...something wro-…now cal-..."_

All around him…

He couldn't catch everything; voices faded in an out and he didn't have the strength to hold his attention to them long enough. When he did hear something, it was like he was in a bubble, with certain sounds being amplified and others being dulled. However, most of the time, the room was quite, but there was always someone there. He could feel it. They'd hold his hand or caress his face, maybe saying something in a sweet voice he couldn't make out.

That lullaby came through most clearly though. It dripped with sadness like it always had, but still it brought him comfort. Yet, at the same time, it still made his heart ache for the life he had at Gracefield. With Emma and Norman. He missed them so much already.

Sometimes it was Mama's voice singing, one he remembered so clearly from when he was still a baby. It was a beautiful, melancholic hum that would send him right back to the blackness of sleep. Sometimes it was a man's voice, one Ray found comforting despite this man being a stranger. It was somehow more upbeat, and usually joined by the rhythmic flipping of papers or tapping or even just the squeezing of his hand.

But the gentle touches made him antsy and finally he was tired of sleeping. His body was healing, he knew that, but from what he had no clue. It just kept dragging him back to sleep, and he was wondering if he'd ever be able to fully wake up.

_**What the hell is going on?**_

_**Why is Mama alive? Where am I? Who is this guy? Who's talking?**_

These questions was most prominent in Ray's mind whenever he was conscious enough to think through the fog of sleep. He wanted answers but he could not wake up and it was beginning to become frustrating rather than peaceful. He struggled to open his eyes a few times, and each time everything was too foggy to focus. Either that, or he couldn't open them more than a crack, only enough to let in a bit of light. Each time sleep dragged him back and in exhaustion he allowed it.

Sometimes when Ray tried this, he was alone. Most of the time, though, he'd catch glimpses of other unassuming individuals in the room. Sometimes it was strangers, coming in to check on him, looking at the numerous screens around him. Sometimes they adjust, remove or add some of the tubes and devices on his body. It was uncomfortable, painful even at times.

Sometimes the strangers walked right past him to the other side of a curtain to his right. Sometimes the curtain was closed and everything was dyed in shade, preventing him from seeing anyone.

Other times he caught sight of people he knew:

Mama, her hair in a loose ponytail, her back to him with what looked like a thin, black notepad held up to her ear. She was speaking into it, too quietly for him to hear, with subdued yet agitated movements.

_**A phone?!**_

Next time it was a flash of a russet haired man, sitting, relaxed in a chair next to him flipping through some papers. Black, white and grey images marred the front, surrounded by words too small and blurry for him to read.

_**A newspaper?!**_

He recalled these things only from books and the small amount of technology smuggled to him by Mama. Yet, he was so sure he knew what they were and it excited him. The other strangers would also bring similar items: holographic touch screens similar to the pen Minerva had given them, small gaming devices that would project images on the wall, large headphones that went over their ears but no wires to attach them.

_**I made it. We made it. We made it to the human world.**_

God kept his word. They were free.

…

The shifting of curtains and voices of those unknown woke him up this time. They were mumbling, there was the subtle beeping of machines and suddenly he was hyper-aware of his whole body. Every tube in him, every clamp on his body, every ache and pain suddenly plagued him.

_**Pain meds finally wore off…**_

_**Now I can figure out where I am...and what's going on.**_

He finds the pain in his throat and stomach is more manageable than before. They still burned and his throat was irritated from the tubes that had been jammed down it (and were still there? Ray felt something rather uncomfortable up his nose), but he no longer felt it was unbearable. His body still felt like lead though.

_**Shit...how long have I been out?**_

Ray shifts uncomfortably before carefully opening his eyes, unsure if he's going to be tugged back to sleep by his body. He finds them easier to open, but there's still a bit of residual exhaustion.

With his head back, Ray can really only see the white tile ceiling and some of the curtain hanger, but there's is a rich variety of stimuli regardless. The curtain was closed again, letting only a dappled bit of sunlight into the small, makeshift room. It's quiet, with only soft murmuring and and the rustling of sheets to his right, behind the curtain surrounding the room. In the distance, however, it seems busy..

The smell of cleaners permeates the air. For some reason, his urge to vomit has returned and his throat feels more sore. He realizes his legs are off on an angle, leaving his whole body positioned oddly. He can vaguely feel tubes in...well everywhere. He feels as though he's chained down by them.

_**Guess I'm not going anywhere anytime soon...**_

Lifting his head slowly, still in a bit of a fog, he finds the man with russet hair is there again, in the same spot as before. His face is partially blocked by a newspaper, blue eyes reading rather intently through wide framed glasses. Ray tries to get a look at the date but it's not on the page facing toward him.

Instead he takes in this person, trying to find any bit of familiarity to him. The man is about his mother's age, with a thin, tall stature and face. He has a fair complexion and Ray notices some freckles giving his face a more youthful appearance than he actually was. Nothing about him stirred any memories.

_**There's no sign of Mama anywhere. Maybe it was all a dream?**_

_**No...it was too real. But where is she? She wouldn't go far right? Not with her prized cattle here...**_

All thoughts drifted from him as Ray found his head back on his pillow. He was still so weak he could hardly lift his head for more than a minute. He felt a headache coming on too and rested his hand on his head to check for fever.

Between his aching body, nausea, drowsiness and his scorched throat, Ray was pretty sure he'd been violently ill in the days before waking up. Where he was, that was a mystery. It looked like an infirmary.

The russet haired man's gaze lifted from his newspaper for a split second as Ray's head fell, and, perhaps seeing Ray move, the brunette did a double-take "Ray?" he asked, eyebrows raised in hopeful surprise.

Ray's gaze slides once again over to the man as he quickly but carefully folds up the paper and places it on the bed, next to Ray's legs. The man leans over, reaching a hand towards Ray's shoulder "Ray? You awake kiddo?"

Ray flinched in return, eyes wide in surprise.

_**Who the hell…?**_

_**Who is this guy? How does he know my name? Where am I?**_

Ray raises his head once again, this time with a bit more effort, to meet the man's eyes, which are awash with relief. He's too groggy to respond and instead lets out a quiet breath and flops down again. He works to organize his thoughts, backtracking to how he got into this position, a stranger by his side.

_**Last thing I remember is Emma at the door...**_

Ray hears the man chuckle through a relieved smile "Good morning sleepyhead."

_**Then light…**_

Ray gives him a confused look in return, which the man picks up on and gives Ray a small smile, "You're in the hospital kiddo. How are you feeling? You need anything?"

_**Then white…**_

Ray's hardly listening to the man, instead pondering the holes in his memory, which he finds baffling and foreign. Usually he would be fighting to forget events but now…

Sinking down further in his bed and moving his legs into a move comfortable position. He props himself up once more, this time bracing himself on his elbows, and gives the man a look of mild distrust, to which the man returned a frown. It gives Ray an overwhelming sense of discomfort. This stranger is too close and too eager to help him. He doesn't trust that.

And then a thought occurs to him.

_**Mama should be dead.**_

_**The last time I saw her…**_

"Ray?" he didn't give the man a response this time, instead lifting himself again to look around for escape, more on instinct than in fear. The tubes in him felt more like shackles at this point and the curtains surrounding him were making him a bit claustrophobic.

Then he manages to catch a glimpse of the paper at his feet, once again trying to see the date. His legs move a bit...

_**What the fu-**_

He's half the size he was before. Like puberty didn't hit him. Like nothing after Gracefield happened. Then he recalls what happened at the Seven Walls...

_**Fuck, fuck, fuck!**_

He rips the sheets off his legs to find them short and thin once more.

_**We didn't make it out?! Is this some kind of hell? I'm back in the Seven Walls?!**_

Images of the melting faces of his friends and family return to him like they were in front of his face.

_**That's why Mama's here. That thing lied!**_

All of the people he'd sacrificed, grasping at him with skeletal hands.

_**We're trapped.**_

_**I'm in hell. I'm back in that hell.**_


	3. All That I've Lost

Removing the tubes was a bit painful, but such pain was manageable compared to everything else Norman had gone through, at Lambda or elsewhere. He'd remained quiet while Smee and James fussed over him, checking his vitals and his response while Abigale left after he was detangled from the various instruments previously keeping him alive, or so he'd assumed.

It was actually quite touching to be fussed over, but at the same time the two men invading his personal bubble was becoming a bit annoying. He nearly pulled away in unease when Smee looked down his throat.

_**Still better than being experimented on though...**_

"You woke up far faster than we thought you would." Smee commented while feeling under his neck, putting a bit of pressure just under his jaw where his lymph nodes were "And you seem fully recovered. No fever, no immune response... throat's still a little inflamed though."

Despite his seeming nonchalance, Norman could tell Smee was a bit surprised by his condition. Norman, on the other hand, was more curious as to how he wound up in this state. The last thing he remembered was Emma walking through the gate...then nothing.

"Do you think you can walk?" James added, his hand around Norman's wrist. Norman nodded slightly, a bit unsure about the prospect of moving, as his legs felt a bit weak. He did not even realize the older man was checking his pulse until he removed his hand, giving Norman a bit of space to get up. He was impressed by the man's subtlety.

Norman wasn't really listening to the two men, preferring to take in Smee's presence. The older man had helped him so much...with his revolution, with his escape and the escape of so many others at Lambda. He was the first adult, and the last, Norman knew he could trust. He'd even made it look like demons had raided the facility, which helped all the kids hide later. The man had sacrificed his life to save them all, had given him so much valuable information.

_**Some good that was… in the end it was for nothing. I failed him…**_

Norman's body deflated a little bit, in defeat and exhaustion, and he looked toward the floor at his feet, swinging them a bit in trepidation. Smee should have been long dead and Norman could only think of one reason he wasn't.

_**I'm dead too. We all died. **_

_**In the end we fell victim to yet another false 'Promise' by a false God. **_

Why he was here now was a question Norman wasn't really sure he wanted answered. He wasn't even sure he could face the man with all of the failures he'd built up. Instead he looked down at his feet, continuing to move them lethargically. He scrunched up his toes, finding it difficult to keep tense.

_**I should have stopped Emma. I should have stopped this. I failed everyone...**_

Norman wished he could speak but he was just...so tired. And his throat was so raw. Any peep he tried to make was cut off by pain. He wasn't really sure what to ask anyway, it just felt like a waste. Everything was happening so fast and everyone he thought was dead was just showing up like they'd been there all along.

_**And I'm somehow 11 again?**_

"Norman?" James's hand was on his shoulder, and Norman raised his head, a bit startled how long he spaced out.

The two men had given him a bit of space and Norman moved to get up, only to find his legs weaker than normal. Norman was surprised when his whole body shook and he nearly collapsed if not for James's arms bracing him. Unintentionally, Norman found himself holding onto the man's sleeves in return as he helped him to right himself. Though he found his bearings a moment later, James still hovered close, arms just behind his back, waiting for another fall.

"It's okay Norman." Smee said gently, more gently than Norman would have expected out of him, "Take your time. You've been through the ringer."

"What…?" Norman finally managed to get out groggily, looking up at the two. They were so much taller than him and his voice was higher too, but also hoarse from disuse. Everything felt new, despite the fact he'd been this small only a few years ago.

"You were in a coma." Smee answered bluntly and James visibly paled, looking over to his friend, "Oh come on Jimmy, were you going to keep it from him? He's a big boy and the smartest fricken kid I've ever met. He can handle it."

While he appreciated Smee's complements, Norman was curious about the condition he was in previously and why James felt the need to keep it from him. Not that he was surprised, he was used to adults keeping things from him, it wasn't anything new. He just hoped that there wasn't any more news they were keeping from him.

_**Please... don't tell me...my family…**_

He let out a silent plea that everyone was okay. Closing his eyes, he braced himself for bad news.

"Norman…" James began tensely, placing his hands on Norman's shoulders as though he was steadying him, "You had a really high fever. You've been in the hospital for about a week and a half…you were...we thought you were brain dead...we..."

James trailed off, though it sounded like his breath hitched a bit. It wasn't the news Norman thought he would hear but it surprised him nonetheless. He opened his eyes, and inspected himself once more. Smee and James fussing now made more sense, but his current condition didn't.

_**But I feel fine. Could it be because…?**_

Looking up, he noticed James wasn't trying to steady Noman, but himself. He could feel the man shaking a bit as he kneeled down and pulled him into a tight, almost suffocating embrace, "I'm sorry Norman. I should have known something was wrong. You've been so worried and stressed out about your Mom…"

Norman pulled away a bit from James's hug, a bit perturbed by the man's emotional turmoil.

_**What the hell is going on?**_

_**Who's Mom? Mama?**_

_**No she should be…**_

Norman looked to Smee for help, but found him with a calm, somewhat soft smirk that transitioned into a raised eyebrow as he noticed Norman looking to him, as though he was expecting him to return the gesture. It only confused Norman further as he returned his gaze toward the man who called himself his father. He softened a bit.

_**This absolute stranger, someone whose identity I stole, was this worried about me…**_

So Norman awkwardly returned the embrace. It felt more like something he was supposed to do in the situation than something he actually wanted to do. After all, William Minerva saved them all many times with his various hints and bases and leads toward the truth of the Demon world. The least Norman could do was return a hug, though he wasn't sure about calling the man "Daddy".

Then he caught a bit of the man's scent, woody with sweet undertones. It wasn't strong, but it was so familiar it caught Norman off guard. A memory came to him, like a fog drifting in.

_He's dozing in and out of consciousness. Above him looks like a tree, like the one in front of Gracefield house. Ray always sat under that tree…_

A memory of Ray came to him briefly, one where the other boy was reading quietly under the grand pine tree in front of their home as the rest of them played. The memories blur together at first, but this new one eventually became its own entity and continued on.

_There's blinking lights in the tree of every color. Glittering orbs hang down along with some silvery, straw like ropes. The woody smell of pine fills his nose._

_**What's this? I've never seen anything like this…**_

_**It feels so...nostalgic? Is that what this feeling is?**_

_He's small in this memory, maybe 6 or 7. Every moment he opens his eyes is a small blur of lights between the branches. The floor under him is soft but he fights to stay awake. He can't remember the reason._

"_Norman?" a man's voice asks. It's James, "What are you doing here? You should be in bed!"_

_The voice isn't angry or firm. Just amused. Warm hands pick him up and cradle him close, "Santa won't come if you stay up all night. Come on, I'll tuck you in."_

_He feels safe in the twilight haze of sleep, close to this person. He can hear their heartbeat and feel each step as they move upstairs. He's never felt safer…_

_**I've never felt that safe before.**_

The memory is gone faster than he would have liked. It was almost like a daydream. A daydream of a life he never had but felt as though he did.

_**What was that?!**_

"Norman?" James had pulled away from him in the midst of everything, hand caressing his cheek, "I'm sorry I shouldn't have told you…"

Norman notices the stray tears that slipped through the vision by the wetness on his cheeks, which the man wipes away with his thumb. He pulls away, uncomfortable by the contact after such a jarring experience. Somehow the memory had stirred something within him.

"N-no, no I-" Norman croaked out before coughing a bit, face flushed in embarrassment, "Y-you smell nice."

_**Dumb Norman. Dumb.**_

James just gave him an awkward smile and a pat on the head, "It's my normal cologne bud. Are you still not feeling well?"

An impromptu cough interrupts the two, "I know you two probably want to go see Mel, so if you have any issues just let me know. Otherwise, he's free to be checked out. I trust you'll be okay monitoring him Jim. Just visit the front desk for the prescription I told you about." and with that, Smee promptly left the two of them alone, Norman looking after him, mildly uncomfortable. He tried to croak out a "Wait!" or a goodbye, but the overwhelming feeling of shame stopped him.

_**I'm a failure...what do I even say? Do I apologize?**_

"Let's get you dressed." James interrupted his self deprecating thoughts, as he raised himself from his kneeling position next to Norman. It was only then he realized all he was wearing was a thin, short gown, without undergarments. Norman sunk further in mortification.

_**I suppose it's easier to treat people in than clothes but can't I have some dignity?**_

James walked to the one of the corner chairs, pulling unfamiliar clothes from a large bag that sat on it, "Norman, if 3x−y=12, what is the value of 8x/2y?"

The question was simple, though why the man had suddenly asked it left Norman baffled. He answered within a second despite his aching throat, "4,096... or 212"

James smiled with a mix between relief and pride, "Alright…" he continued, depositing the clothes on the bed in front of Norman. A white collared shirt with a blue stripe across the center, some black slacks, and a clean pair of underwear, "If the function _f(x) _= √x and _g(x) _= 7x + b and in a standard (x,y) coordinate plane, y= _f(g(x)) _passes through (4,6) then what is the value of b?"

It took only a moment for Norman to think about it, mostly just due to parsing the equation out, as it was a nested equation, "B=8"

"Good…" James responded as Norman headed toward the bathroom to change, "I can leave the room if you want privacy."

"No it's fine…" he answered, his voice getting a little stronger, though still hoarse. James handed him his shoes just before the door closed, black, high-topped with laces, like the boots from his childhood but flatter and made of a sort of canvas material rather than leather.

"You're already sounding a lot better Norman. If you have any issues just let me know." James reassured him as Norman began closing the bathroom door, though he doubted he'd tell the man if he was having 'issues', "Oh, and...don't worry if things don't...come to you...as naturally as before. It might take a while to recover fully. Not everybody goes back to normal after...that."

Something about his tone made Norman assume that James didn't think he'd ever recover fully. And rightfully so if he'd been brain dead for any amount of time.

_**But I feel fine...**_

It suddenly clicked for Norman as to why James was asking him about mathematical problems; the man was testing him to see how much damage he'd sustained to his higher brain functions. Curiously, Norman peeked through the crack the door before closing it, "Can't you give me a harder problem?"

Honestly, all those problems were easy. James knew they were easy. If James was testing him, Norman wanted to prove he could pass easily, to put his mind at ease. So, he would test the man in return.

"Okay sport…" James paused, smirking, "If a and b be two real numbers and M(a,b) = max {3a2+2b; 3b2+2a} then what are the values of a and b in which M(a,b) is minimal."

Norman pondered it a second after closing the door, more preoccupied with getting his clothes on. After a few minutes came a knock at the door followed by an anxious voice on the other side, "Norman? You okay?"

He opened the door smiling. The question was a little bit harder, and he needed to write it out in the air in his groggy state, but the answer came within a few minutes, "-⅓"

The man beamed again in pride, ruffling Norman's hair, to which he sunk down with the weight of the man's hand "Yeah, you'll be fine."

James continued to quiz Norman, mostly on mathematics but drifted into science occasionally as well, as the two left the room and approached the front counter, duffle bag on the man's shoulder. James had managed to make himself look a bit more presentable while Norman was getting dressed. His hair was tamed and his vest forgone completely, leaving only a white button down.

"Where's everyone else?" Norman questioned when there was a lull in the conversation at the counter. He'd decided to try his luck since James seemed less anxious.

"Everyone else?" James responded, "You mean Britta and Mom? We're going to see them now."

He didn't follow up on this as James began his conversation with a woman behind the desk. They were talking about some kind of drug...Nomasofil or something. Norman wasn't really paying attention, prefering to stew on this bit of information.

_**He keeps talking about 'Mom'. He can't mean Mama…**_

_**Is he talking about my real mother? But...at Lambda…**_

_**And who is Britta? He mentioned her name before…**_

Norman was lead out the front entrance by James, who pulled out a set of keys, a black capsule-like device attached to one of them. Curiously, he pressed a button on the case, and within a few minutes a shiny black car was summoned, far newer than anything Norman had ever seen before. He stared at it wide eyed before the two doors facing them opened by themselves.

"Come on sport, hop in." James was already inside, beckoning him before closing the driver-side door.

"Where are we going?" Norman responded standing firmly in place. He wasn't about to enter a stranger's car without knowing where he was going to end up.

_**Can I really call him a stranger? He's too familiar…**_

"We're going to see your mom at Lonas…"

"Where is 'Lonas'?"

"Well…" James looked honestly surprised by the question, "It's a few about 20 minutes away up near Yorktown. Why? What's up?"

Norman didn't really know how to respond, but he held firm "Where's Ray and Emma and everyone else?"

James's brow furrowed at the question, "Who?"

It felt like the whole world disappeared from under Norman's feet.

…

The car ride was a blur. James kept asking him questions, quizzing him at first before prying into his earlier question but Norman ignored it all in favor of staring out the window at the quickly passing cityscape. Normally, Norman would have been gasping in wonder at the skyscrapers and structures around, amazed at the architecture of the human world that seemed without limits but his mood was dampened and instead the silence was weighed heavy on both of them.

Even without all the new information stewing in his head, the movement of the car would have made him nauseous. Car travel was proving to be a nauseating experience which felt like an eternity rather than twenty minutes. Turns out it was about 45 minutes, due to a backup of cars, which James called a 'traffic jam'.

_**He doesn't know Emma or Ray. He didn't even know what I was talking about.**_

_**Where is everyone? Where are we?**_

Each thought made him more nauseous and he felt bile rising up in his stomach. Noticing this, James casually handed him a plastic bag from the front seat, which Norman gladly took and expelled whatever was left in his stomach into, which wasn't much. It was such a casual motion from the man, as though it happened all the time.

"Getting a little car sick back there bud?" the man asked, leaning back in the cockpit watching traffic inch forward. He looked concerned, but it wasn't the same anxious concern he'd shown back at the hospital.

"Mmm..." was all Norman could manage to get out, completely mortified. He'd been way too vulnerable in front of this man.

"It's alright, happens all the time. Don't worry, it's just a car. It can be cleaned."

The car did look fancy and new but luckily, Norman had avoided getting vomit anywhere but the bag. It was a small victory and James's words provided a added bit of comfort so Norman leaned back once more, closing his eyes. He eventually raised his legs, coiling himself into a fetal position to avoid looking at the scenery.

It helped a bit with his motion sickness, but did nothing for his anxiety.

_**Should I even ask about the demons? Would he even know?**_

Then Norman recalled the exchange that needed to be made to pass through the gate into the human world.

The price was their memories. So James may have lost his as well.

_**But that still doesn't explain the weird discrepancies occurring here. Why do I remember everything? Why does James call himself my father? Why does he seem so familiar with me? Why am I 11 again? Why did I have that flashback?**_

_**It doesn't matter. If I'm alive, Ray and everyone else are also alive. We're going to find Emma and bring her here, 'Promise' be damned.**_

Norman decided to stay quiet and leave when the moment presented itself. Perhaps this "Lonas" facility had some answers.


	4. At What Cost

_He'd been walking for at least a year he knew that. Or at least, that's what it felt like. They walked away from the house and all the creatures within. They walked through the shelter and Goldy Pond, paying little mind to the structures that they once called home. Surrounded by distorted time and space, nothing really felt like home._

_The God-creature beckoned them further and further into the maze, "Let's play! Let's play!" _

_"This place bends time and space!" He remembered when he figured it all out, walking miserably onward with Emma at his side. _

_The truth became clear to him; they'd never be able to meet with % *$. There was nothing they had control of in this world. They were but toys which were to bend to his whims._

_Exhaustion ate at him, quickly evolving into an irritation and hopelessness he knew too well. He felt the feelings he hadn't since being trapped at Gracefield. He was in a cage; in a situation with no control. He swore he'd never let any of them suffer in such a compromising position ever again._

_They walked away from the shelter and it's labyrinth into the wastelands. They'd passed through so many doors but this…_

_This was endless. Endless sands. An eternally setting sun. Just like the riddle said._

_**Are we one step forward, or is there still more to come?**_

_With a single step his world collapsed. He watched her disappear. She cracked to pieces and scattered to the four winds like dust. Like nothing._

_**Emma? Emma?!**_

_No matter how hard he searched, he couldn't find her. Searching through the sifting sands did nothing. He could do nothing._

_The dead landscape swirled in front of him. The sand burned his eyes. He was so thirsty. It hurt to even breathe. His sense of time had long left him. _

_**How long have I been here? What year is it?**_

_His sense of self left soon after._

_**Who...am I?**_

_He kept walking. 10 miles this way, 10 miles that way. All under the direction of a compass that didn't work and the riddle of someone who was long dead. A riddle they would never solve because it was impossible._

_A human could not transcend time and space._

_**Whatever it takes to restore the promise.**_

"Ray?" _it's a voice from everywhere and nowhere. It's a voice he hasn't heard before. A man's voice, kind and soft. He ignored it. It was another delusion._

_He kept walking. Her shadow kept following him. Breathing became harder._

_**Where's Emma?!**_

"_She's gone." it wasn't the compassionate voice from before, but instead a familiar, sinister voice responds, but he doesn't know where from._

_He'd been walking for ages. His brain perceived decades in each minute. His body was weak from lack of food, bone protruding through torn clothes and shriveled skin. He could feel dehydration weakening him with each step. But he went on because he didn't know what else to do._

_**Emma…? Emma…?!**_

_He'd lost her. She was gone. She'd died so they all could live. She was never coming back._

_**No...this can't be happening. This isn't happening.**_

_**But it did. It has.**_

_His legs finally gave out as he fell to his knees, too weak to continue on. He turned to look behind him, to where Emma should have been, only to find her shadow there instead. A gun with her jacket and necklace tied to it. A gun with a single bullet left in it._

_He couldn't do it any longer. He couldn't continue on._

_His body flopped down, to exhausted to even reach for the weapon that could be his release. Laying defeated, he let out a silent apology, hoping to simply waste away in this wasteland like so many others had._

_**Emma...Norman... I'm sorry...**_

"Ray!" the frantic voice from before was no longer in his memory. He looked down to see a hand rested upon his shoulder.

A demon hand.

Ray squirmed from it's grasp clawing away to remove it, however he found himself struggling against the dizzying, distorted world around him. Everything spun and swirled together just like in _that place. _Noises swam in and out of his ears but he couldn't make sense of any of it.

As his breathing became more labored, Ray felt an ache throughout his arm and chest. His body had suddenly gone cold and an overwhelming sense of dread came over him.

_**I'm...dying?**_

_**I feel like...my heart is going to give out!**_

For a split second the world went black and Ray tumbled backwards, off the bed he'd been sitting on and onto a hard, cold floor. Sounds of other things crashing around him filled his ears as he instinctively covered his head.

A litany of voices and the shuffling of curtains and frantic tapping of shoes soon followed:

"Ray!"

"Hey is everything okay in there?"

"Did he fall off the bed?"

"I'll get a nurse!"

Something smacked his arm on the way down, but that wasn't what hurt the most. The pain of the tubes, which he suddenly recalled, being partially tugged on brought Ray out of his psychosis. He struggled to control his breathing, but the immense sense of death looming over him did not subside.

Ray kept his eyes closed tight, doing his best to fight off the tears dotting the corners. For some reason he still feared death, although he'd convinced himself he deserved it. He was a coward, letting someone else make the sacrifice he should have made.

_**I let Emma go! I should have been the one…!**_

Too many emotions swirled in his head at once; shame, fear, pain, sadness, all wrapped together in an unbearable way. Ray didn't even realize he was shaking as he unconsciously curled up in a ball on the cold tile to shield himself from the world around him. It just didn't feel like there was enough air. He was just fighting to stay alive and alert in % *$ illusion which at any time could collapse into a further messier situation.

_**I deserve this fate. I let so many of them die...**_

"It's okay Ray, you're safe." the hand returned to his shoulder but Ray had surrendered himself to his fate, be it by this stranger or by the God-creature itself. So, he curled tighter into a ball, arms covering his face and muscles tense, bracing himself. He couldn't believe in this man. Adults had lied to him his entire life, how was he any different? He wasn't even real. None of it was.

The curtains shuffled again and a firm, familiar voice spoke up "What happened?"

"He seems very...agitated. He fell out of bed." the man responded calmly, rubbing soothing circles in his back. Ray found it a minor comfort, but a familiar one. He recalled simpler times.

_**Mama would do this when I cried as a baby.**_

It was such a tender, sensitive memory it almost made Ray upset the demon God was using it against % *$ was trying to allow him to die as the Lotus-eaters had in the Odyssey; in pleasure and comfort, unaware of the passage of time.

_**That's more than a fuckup like me deserves.**_

"Alright let me see," the owner of the voice grabbed his arm tightly, trying to pull them away from his face and out of his comfort zone by force, "I need to see your face, hon. You're bleeding all over the floor."

Ray hadn't even noticed his nose was bleeding until she pointed it out. He supposed the tubes being jarred from their usual position would do that. Or perhaps he'd hit his head on the fall? Suddenly, the pain felt very real, and Ray discovered himself a bit more lucid than before.

Shaking still, he relaxed his arms a bit, peeking out from his the barricade he'd made with his arms, Ray saw a face he wished he didn't. A face he didn't think he'd see again.

Sister Krone.

Right in front of him like she'd never died. She looked different; her hair was braided into a ponytail and she wasn't wearing the normal maid outfit like when she was at Gracefield, instead donning similar clothing to the people who'd been checking on him while he'd been asleep. She wore an expression of confident focus rather than one of a rabid dog. Ray found her appearance foreign, despite the fact that he'd seen her everyday for over a month at one point.

"K-Kro…" he tried to force anything out but the pain in his throat had yet to subside and it came out only as a whisp. He winced in pain after the noise emerged, noticing his inflamed throat once more. As he became more lucid, he found the aches that had been plaguing him prior return once more.

_**Did Mama lie? No...she would have no reason to keep Sister Krone alive.**_

_**No...no this is a dream. A nightmare created by % *$. She's not real!**_

The woman in question gave him a smile, one without sinister intentions, while she inspected his face. Her smile somehow made Ray more uneasy than her usual, predatory smile, "Thank you, hon. Looks like you're ready to get these out."

In general, her presence was doing nothing for his heart. Her sweet temperament only made him more on-edge.

_**Mama is alive. Krone is alive. So am I alive or is this…?**_

_**I'm in hell with them. A hell created by % *$. Perhaps this is where bad people go when they die.**_

"Alright, we need to get him back up on the bed." Krone directed, sliding her hand under his other arm, about to lift him. He squirmed out of her grasp, clawing and pushing her back with everything he had to return to his ball position.

_**Please...just leave me here. I'm...so cold… I want it to end. I'm tired of this...**_

_**Emma...Norman...**_

"It's okay, I've got him." the russet haired man reassured her, sliding a hand under his shoulder and knees. Before Ray could manage a fight, the man made an labored grunt as he lifted Ray into the air, causing the latter to instinctively grab onto his shirt so as not to fall. The man chuckled, "Ugg, when did you get so big kiddo?"

He sat Ray on his lap, holding him close and rubbing his back. Ray once again recalled Mama doing something similar, as well as rocking him and such, when he was younger and haunted by nightmares. Her warmth soothed him then too, despite all he knew, and the man's warmth all at once became bizarre to him.

_**How can an illusion be so warm?**_

"We'll just give him something to calm him down."

"Yes, please do. He seemed very upset."

"He may have just had a tough time coming off the drugs so suddenly." The russet haired man pulled him closer, turning his head away as Krone leaned over. He felt a prick in his rear and jumped, trying to squirm out of the man's grasp, clawing at his back to get away. The man held him tight against his chest, easily holding him down.

While the jolt may not have made him strong enough to get away, it did seem to make him even more cognizant. The flashback from before finished and Ray suddenly recalled Emma emerging from the wardrobe, describing how the Seven Walls worked; not by % *$ whims but by their own imagination. He recounted Emma's words:

"_This place is reacting to our consciousness! That means our thoughts are able to change this place!"_

"Sshhh, shhh, Ray it's okay. You're having a panic attack." the man soothed, petting his hair, "Just breathe like me. See? In and out. Close your eyes and breathe."

_**A 'panic attack'? Is that why it feels like I'm dying?**_

Things fell into place a bit for Ray, but also left him with further questions. It was becoming exhausting to try and figure everything out.

_**Who is this man? Why did I imagine him?**_

_**Why is Mama still alive? Why does she seem so different? Is that my subconscious desire as well?**_

_**Why am I in so much pain? **_

Ray tried to will the pain away, tried to alter the situation or even change small features of the man or the room. Nothing worked; the man continued to hold him close with the same pale features and the room continued to make noise in the dim light and his pain refused to go away.

_**Maybe...this isn't the Seven Walls?**_

So, he followed the man's directions and listened, finding his ability to fight back reduced with each passing minute. Closing his eyes, he sunk down and followed the man's breathing, matching his own to it's more relaxed pattern.

"That's it Ray. Everything is going to be okay."

_**No, it's not. I don't know where I am!**_

"Me and your mom aren't mad at you. Nobody's mad at you."

_**Why would you be mad? I don't know you!**_

"We love you and we just want you to be happy."

_**Y-you what!? Who are you?**_

Buried in the man's shirt, he caught a trace of an aroma like old paper and musty wood. Somehow, it made him homesick and he realized he somehow smelled similar to the library at Gracefield.

_**No... it's not exactly the same. But still...I know this scent.**_

A memory came to him, almost like another flashback, but one that didn't produce the same anxiety as the previous on. Instead, it made him feel lighter.

_He's small, maybe 5 or 6, but this memory, like all the others comes so clearly._ _There was something propped on his lap he was super excited about. His hair was short, not covering his left eye like usual. In fact, it barely covered his forehead._

_**No...my hair was never that short…**_

Mama had never bothered to cut his hair too short. She had far better things to do than fight with an unruly child that didn't like his hair touched. Cutting it too short made him feel almost naked.

_It was a guitar on his lap, like the one at Gracefield that Nat liked to play with._

He remembers being interested in trying to play as well, listening to Nat play. He never got around to it; there was too much at stake to be playing around with an instrument.

_Yet, in this memory, he was so excited and happy he bounced nearly a foot off the floor. He smiled so much it hurt as he began nonsensically strumming the instrument._

_**When did this happen?**_

_A voice cut through his unintelligible song, "Ray I know you're excited, but you have to pay attention."_

_It was the russet haired man. He looked a bit younger, less tired and far happier. His expression was one of relaxed mirth as he scolded him, though his tone was less scathing and somehow more encouraging and amused. A darker colored, older guitar sat on his lap as well, his left hand poised on the neck while his arm hung leisurely over the body._

_**No. No I don't know this.**_

_"Now watch me," the man played a few notes slowly, but the notes were too complex for a beginner._

_**Why don't I know this?! What's going on?!**_

_Ray had watched him intently from the moment he opened his mouth. His eyes watched every movement his hands made, and his ears took in every note._

_The russet haired man gestured to him, encouraging him to copy and Ray did so with ease, playing the guitar as though it was second nature._

_**What the hell? I can't do that! When did this happen?!**_

_**This isn't my memory!**_

"_That was really good Ray!" the man praised, beaming with pride and excitement, "You're getting better all the time! Soon you'll be able to play in our band!"_

_The thought had excited his younger self, "Daddy, Daddy, I wanna play with you noooow!" he had exclaimed, bouncing in his seat once again._

_**D-DADDY?!**_

"_But we are playing together Ray-oof" Ray had gotten up and ran over to the man, tackling him in a hug, giggle the whole time. The man was giggling along, falling backwards in feign defeat. Ray fell with him, into a tight embrace._

_**What's this…? I feel so... happy?**_

_The two sat there giggling and the man planted a tender kiss on his head wearing an expression of pure contentment. Ray's smile had never faltered, somehow only growing wider._

_**Have I ever been this happy? Was there really a time I was this happy?**_

_**Why am I only remembering this now?**_

_**No...no this has to be a dream! It can't be real! That thing is in my head!**_

Ray would have struggled further, but found his agency slipping away. A few tears had trailed down his face, he didn't know when, but his body felt numb, save for his heart and head, which ached for some reason. Perhaps all the confusion had worn down his tired mind. He felt soft, like a plush pillow, and he hated it.

Ray lay near limp in the man's arms, his own arms wearily loosening from around the man's neck and falling down onto the bed, losing strength with each passing moment. He found everything foggy and dreamlike suddenly as he rested his head on the man's shoulder.

_**Ah...a sedative...they gave me a sedative.**_

It felt like someone was messing with his memories. Like someone had taken a fork and, just like spaghetti, twirled his brain till nothing made sense. Yet, somewhere deep down, he knew the memory held something important. This memory was somehow real, and something was trying to tell him that.

How he'd acquired such a memory was beyond Ray but if somehow he was in the Seven Walls…this too was a projection of his unconsciousness. Something told him it wasn't. Something told him all of that really happened.

_**This man...is my father?**_

_**No...my desire for a father made this man up...**_

Ray flopped his head back, trying to get a better look at the man cradling him. Blue eyes. Auburn hair. Thin feature. Pale freckled skin. How he conjured this man in particular, one he'd never seen before, was inexplicable. He'd read once that people couldn't imagine new faces in their dreams, only ones they'd seen before or at least amalgamations of them, but this man's face was entirely new.

_**I look nothing like this man but he feels... familiar. Maybe his voice…?**_

Then Ray realized. The man singing to him through the blackness. The voice in the dream that cut through everything. It was his voice. A voice way too familiar to come from someone so unfamiliar.

_**I don't understand...I wasn't even that close with Mama…but him...I feel like I can trust him.**_

He curled up closer to his...father, reasoning with himself it was for warmth. He knew, subconsciously, it was because this man made him feel safe. He hadn't felt safe in a long time.

Ray also reasoned this perceived safety and trust was probably manufactured by his subconscious desire for affection, just like the memories and the feelings of warmth and familiarity, but he was just too tired to care. He was too tired to think of whether or not all of what was happening was real or not. So he slumped forward and closed his eyes, taking in the too familiar smell that cut through the noxious scent of cleaners and the softness and warmth that seemed to emanate from this man.

Ray groaned a bit in pain, shifting himself as much as he could in the man's arms before pulling himself closer to his chest. The auburn haired man only seemed to hold him tighter in response, placing a kiss on his head like in the flashback, "Don't worry Ray, I'm here. I've got you."


	5. An Enigma in White

The rest of the ride was quiet and uneventful. Traffic finally broke and Norman fought to keep whatever was left in his stomach down. He found himself hungry despite his nausea, which only made the nausea worse.

Finally they arrived at a multi-leveled structure very different from the skyscrapers they'd passed until that point. It was concrete, almost slanted, with no windows. As the car approached, a black bar blocked their way.

_**What's this place? What's inside?**_

As Norman finished the thought, a holographic screen on the driver's side of the car flicked on. James, who had been digging around the consul to the right, rolled down the window to interact with the screen. It lit up with a confirmation after a few taps and the bar flung up, allowing them to proceed.

By the time they parked, Norman was struggling to get out of the car, slipping carefully out of his seat onto the asphalt below. He was dizzy and wobbly but the fresh air felt nice, even if it did smell a bit damp and musty.

James grabbed his arm in an effort to help Norman steady himself, "Do you want me to carry you?"

"N-no I'm fine." the proposition itself would have made him embarrassed if not for the looming threat of spilling his stomach contents all over the older man. Norman didn't think he could handle the embarrassment of vomiting all over James Ratri. His pride was already a bit bruised by throwing up in his car.

The two walked slowly through the field of cars towards an elevator at the far end of the floor. Norman leaned against James's arm, using it as a brace despite his reluctance to get too close to the man. The world still spun a bit, though his stomach was settling some. James didn't seem to mind, throwing his arm around Norman and pulling him closer to his side, "You haven't been sick in the car in a long time…"

_**You keep saying that but I have no idea what you mean. I've never traveled in a car in my life.**_

He shot the man an irritated look somewhat unconsciously, finding it hard to keep down his displeasure in his quesy state. It was only a split second, and Norman hoped James didn't notice, which he didn't seem to. Looking up at the man, however, did allow Norman to inspect the man further. His first observation was the size discrepancy between the two.

Norman hadn't seen too many full grown men in his life, but James rivaled even Zazie, who'd grown very tall very quickly, despite being only 5 years old. The man had to be over 6 foot, with broad shoulders, but a slim frame otherwise. Overall, he was rather intimidating, and Norman wondered if he too would be that intimidating when he grew up. A fuzzy feeling, almost like pride or excitement, began to bubble up in his chest but he quickly squashed it and corrected himself.

_**I'm a genetic clone. This man is not my father.**_

_**One would have to be blind to ignore the physical similarities between us, though**_. Norman realized as the man guided him into the elevator, pressing a button to take them to the ground floor, _**Perhaps he's taking responsibility for a... failed experiment…?**_

Norman preferred not to dwell on it, looking around the elevator. Behind them, one side of the elevator was glass, allowing Norman to see the city below. He was amazed not only by the structures but also by the amount of people that pervaded the ground below. He'd never imagined so many people could exist in one place.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened to a glass encased corridor, allowing Norman to view more of the busy streets below. Cars whizzed past underneath them and people went about their lives along the paths alongside, doing what Norman assumed normal humans would do. It was peaceful, but no less foreign.

Then Norman looked to where they were headed, focusing on the large building in front of him. It had to be over 100 floors, and was also encased in glass, though it almost seemed to have a chessboard pattern along the side. It seemed rather elegantly designed, if a bit gaudy for his tastes, with bright colors contrasting heavily with the darker glass.

The two emerged through a pair of double doors, greeted by some people in similar clothes to Abigale sitting behind a dark wooden desk, to which James only exchanged a nod with. A large sign welcomed them above the entrance way as they walked in: "**Lonas Cancer Hospital**".

It was another hospital, though Norman wasn't really sure what the 'Cancer' part of it was about. He reasoned there was two options: Either they were taking him to another hospital to get experimented on and all of this was a trick or either 'Brita' or 'Mom' was sick. The latter was more likely, he decided, as James had been nothing but caring and cordial.

_**Still, there's always a chance.**_

Through a maze of hallways, all looking similar and steril, James led him on. To where, Norman had no clue, but his eyes were observing James's movements at all times, looking for a pattern or some hint the man would betray him. There was nothing, in fact, he seemed rather relaxed.

In a quiet area of the hospital, James led him to a bathroom, "For you to get cleaned up. It'll make you feel better."

Norman obeyed, only because the man was right, he did feel the need to clean himself. The bathroom was very clean and well lit, if a bit small, with a single toilet and sink. He got to work cleaning his face and steadying himself after the long car ride, gulping a bit of water and swishing it around his mouth before spitting it out once more. Raising his head to look in the mirror, something caught his weary eyes.

The numbers on his neck were gone.

Norman realized he hadn't noticed it at the other hospital due to the lack of mirrors in the bathroom. Now Norman could see his neck was completely blank, as if nothing had ever been there. He ripped off his shirt and found the Lambda mark was also gone. It was as though he'd never been branded.

As though none of it had happened.

_**What the hell...What the hell…**_

He touched the skin for confirmation. There was nothing, not even a raised mark. Norman reasoned with himself in an effort to calm his panicked heart:

_**The human world has a vast amount of technology. Surely they could remove a tattoo or brand.**_

Why James never pointed it out to him, Norman didn't know. Perhaps he forgot. That wasn't to say Norman wasn't grateful; he was, but that tattoo had marked him his whole life and to be without it was a bit...jarring. It was intrusive to remove it without his consent.

In distress he dressed himself once more, emerging from the bathroom cautiously, "You removed my tattoos."

"What?" James responded, a little bewildered. He'd been leaning against the wall opposite of the bathroom door, but lifted straightened himself at Norman's comment.

_**He's playing dumb, he has to be. There's no way tattoos just vanish.**_

"The brands on my neck and chest. You removed them but didn't tell me."

James stepped forward, arms raised in a somewhat defensive posture, as though he was trying to wave Norman into a calmer state "Norman, I have no idea what you're talking about. You've never had any markings or birthmarks."

"And how would you know?" Norman lashed out, letting out the frustration he'd been holding in for a while, "I've had that brand on my neck my entire life you can't just take it off and not tell me!"

_**I've had enough of this man's games!**_

James snapped his attention toward a door opening a few paces down the hallway, with Norman following his gaze shortly after. Two individuals in lab coats emerged, looking curiously at the commotion between what they probably assumed was a spat between father and son. James smiled sheepishly, waving slightly as they walked away before turning his attention back to Norman.

He continued, finally finding his voice, which was no longer raspy "What am I doing here? Where am I? Where is my family?!"

"Norman wha-"

"Are you working with the demons? Is that it Mr. Minerva?"

James paled considerably at the mention of the demons, his expression rapidly changing from mild bewilderment to panicked distress. He kneeled down in front of Norman, placing his hands on his shoulders a bit roughly. He addressed Norman patient caution that made Norman nervous, "Norman, what are you talking about? Where did you hear that name?"

"What do you mean? Answer me!"

James stared at him for a second, staring into his eyes as though looking for something, "Norman, you had a very bad dream while you were asleep. It happens to a lot of people." His expression softened into something like pity, pulling Norman into a tight hug, "There are no demons; they're not real and you're safe. There are people around, so you have to be quiet or people might think there's something wrong..."

_**NO! It wasn't a dream! None of that was a dream! My life before this wasn't a goddamn dream!**_

"I'M NOT CRAZY!" Using whatever power he had left, Norman pushed himself off of the much larger man and sprinted away. He'd had enough of James Ratri trying to play father as though none of what happened before had happened. As if he hadn't forsaken all of the children in the demon world, including his own blood.

_**Barbara, Cieslo, Vincent and Zazie weren't a dream! Connie and the kids at Gracefield weren't a dream! Emma and Ray weren't a dream! They can't be! I have to find them!**_

…

He first tried the entrance but found there to be guards there. He looked for another exit but found himself lost in the maze of a building. He looked at a map, but someone almost grabbed him while he'd let his guard down. When he tried to ask anyone for directions, they began asking him where his parents were. Even the people at the front desk would eye him when he'd pass, picking up their phones while watching him.

It was yet another cage for Norman to escape from, with a threat around every corner and a layout that made little sense. Every exit was blocked, every window, if not barred or locked, then too high. He couldn't even get onto the roof without a passcode.

Norman had wanted to lose James Ratri so bad, he'd forgotten to keep an eye out on the layout of the building. He kicked himself for his shortsightedness, but knew it was due to how rapidly the situation had progressed. In one day he'd met the man who saved all the cattle children, said man began calling himself his father, found Smee to be alive, and was kidnapped by the man who called himself his father and taken to another hospital. It was an overwhelming amount of emotional information to process and he still didn't feel like he was at full strength.

The guards made him the most nervous, as they tried to grab Norman when they saw him. Still not at full strength and in a new and disorienting environment with a myriad of people, sounds and smells, he found it difficult to outmaneuver them. Unintentionally, he'd taken an elevators to try and escape some guards who had been tailing him which only served to disorient him further.

_**Just calm down Norman! Think! Think dammit!**_

He just ran, hoping to find someplace quiet to get his bearings. He found it on the ground floor, in an open area surrounded by glass windows, allowing light to heavily stream in, bouncing off the white walls and decor. Scattered around were tables and chairs, arranged indistinctly around a fountain that calmly drizzled water into a pond surrounded by latticed foliage in the middle of the plaza. The smell of food wafted in the air, further bothering Norman's anxious stomach.

Norman took a few delicate steps in, looking around at the area for a place to catch his breath and collect his thoughts. A few people sat around eating, some staring at him curiously as he passed. He didn't blame them, as he was breathing heavily and probably looked pale.

Finally, he found a cozy nook close to the fountain, and sunk into it gratefully. Curling his knees toward his chest, Norman lamented on his situation.

_**I know I'm in a city, but I don't know what city. I know this is Lonas Cancer Hospital, but I need to find out where. I can't ask anyone, they're trying to catch me and bring me back to Minerva. Who knows what he wants with me...**_

_**If I leave this building, where do I go? I need to find Emma and Ray, but there's so many people.**_

_**I need to find a phone. But who do I contact?**_

"Norman?" it was a woman's voice, soft and sweet. Norman broke out of his rumination, eyes shooting towards the source of the voice, ready to flee.

He turned, meeting eyes with a tall, ghostly looking woman. Her eyes were a bit sunken, skin sallow and her hair was shoulder-length and straw-like. Yet she still carried herself with such grace that Norman couldn't believe she was anything but ethereal. Her white dress that flowed just past her knees only added to this image, giving the impression she was glowing.

Norman rose slowly, cautious about this woman. Observing her further, he suspected she was unthreatening, as she looked to be extremely weak and thin.

_**Is she a ghost?**_

Norman shook of the illogical thought, reasoning such things did not exist. She approached almost cautiously, her smile small and weak but still full of warmth. She held out her hand, "Mon petit agneau, où étais-tu? Tout le monde vous cherchait."

Norman could only tell she was addressing him and nothing else. Her words bounced off him as though they were gibberish. He'd never heard this language before but it didn't feel completely foreign, somehow. He found himself unable to answer regardless, just staring at the specter before him, noticing the tight curl on the left side of her head that was similar to his own, except in the opposite direction.

While he wasn't paying attention, the woman took advantage and softly grabbed his wrist, gently pulling him toward her shoulder. Norman jumped back a bit, but stopped, not wanting to injure the woman who already looked so frail. She exploited his temporary and pulled him closer to her, till she was hugging him. Norman allowed it, arms hesitant falling to his sides, concluding he could probably overpower her if she tried anything.

"Did you have a fight with your Papa?" the woman asked, cradling Norman close and petting his head, "I missed you my little lamb. Are you feeling better? Your Papa told me you were very sick."

She spoke to him slowly and lovingly, as though he was a child, which irritated him only slightly for some reason. Normally, Norman would have hated being talked to in such a way, but for some reason it made him more worried than irritated. She sounded tired, but her patience never wavered. A rush of familiarity enclosed him as he fell into her embrace.

_**Ah...this is 'Mel'.**_

_**This is 'Mom'.**_

A memory felt like something on the tip of his tongue so Norman closed his eyes as he took in her scent, just as he did with James, trying to replicate the same effect as before. There was something sweet hidden beneath the volatile hospital chemicals and just as he suspected another memory came to him.

_A beautiful blue sky, the smell of brine, the soft wind tussling his hair._

_He's lounging on a long chair on a wooden deck looking out towards a vast body of deep blue water. The sound of lapping waves and screeching of seagulls tells him it's the ocean._

_**I've only seen this in books. How would I know what this looks like? It's so...vast and...beautiful!**_

_He's older in this memory compared to the last one, probably about 9 or 10. The whole memory is relaxing. He looks to his right, and there she is. Maman._

_She looks elegant in a long blue sundress and a delicate straw sunhat. Her hair is much longer and her skin peachier. She's healthy in this memory, or at least he assumes._

_Her attention is focused on a rather thick book with a blue cover. He can't remember the details, nor what he asks her, but she responds patiently. Her patience seemed boundless as he piled questions on top of questions. And they just...talked. It feels like hours of them just talking. He's hanging on to her every word as though she's preaching the gospel while he laid there, rolling and fidgeting around in his chair playfully, giggling occasionally at a joke or a story._

_**How can this feel so peaceful? How can I miss this so much? How can I miss something I don't remember having?**_

_Their conversation lulls and Norman finds himself looking once more at the crystalline ocean. It's silent for a few seconds before Maman closes her book and looking towards something distant. Her smile fades for a second and she sighs, as through steeling herself for something._

"_My little lamb…" she says, almost wistfully, her gaze never faltering from something far beyond the ocean, "I have cancer."_

_This information comes nearly out of nowhere but it quickly brings Norman's world to a halt. They were laughing only minutes ago, but now that feels far away. His heart drops into his stomach as he simply stares at her for a few minutes. She continues to smile out at the landscape, not making eye contact._

"_Wha…" he begins, unsure of what to say. He decides to dig deeper. Maybe it was a miscommunication, "Maman, qu'est-ce que tu veux dire?"_

"_I'm sick my love." She responds quietly, closing her eyes, "I'm very sick. But I'll try to get better. I'll do my best for you and your sister and your father. I love you all so much."_

_The realization that this is not a miscommunication sinks in and his whole body begins shaking, the feeling of impending doom that was looming over now striking him like lightning. He gets up numbly, ready to run and hide away in the house. There must be something he could do. Something Papa could do! _

_"Mon chéri…" Maman grabbed his hand, halting his progress toward the door "Sometimes things don't happen the way we want them to and there's nothing we can do. I know it seems hard, but I don't want you to worry about me. I want you to be happy Norman. I want to see you smile every day I can."_

"_I love you Norman. Please don't hurt yourself trying to change the unchangeable. Just live your life. Run around and have fun. Enjoy your childhood. It's okay."_

_He's numb but he forces himself to cry, falling into her lap like when he was a child and got a scratch from falling. He should do it now, rather than erupt into tears when others were looking._

_No one else could see him cry. Only her. Only his Maman._

It was like she wasn't speaking to the past version of him in the memory, but the one of the present. The him who had experienced so much hardship. The him who hurt and tried to bottle it up for so long.

Norman doesn't realize he's sobbing into her shoulder, strangers peering at him from around the plaza.


	6. Thoughts Clouded in Black

Ray's eyes fluttered open once again to an unfamiliar ceiling and daylight dripping through a half-open curtain. He woke up slowly, his whole body aching as though he'd been trampled or thrown around. The bed, which seemed so uncomfortable before, now was like quicksand, dragging him back to sleep.

He no longer felt like his chest was collapsing and the feeling of death no longer lingered over him. His embarrassing episode from before, however, remained firmly in his memory. Ray sighed and forced himself up.

The world felt foreign, but it was no longer terrifying. He was no longer laced with tubes and the machines around him were off, no longer making any noises. He was alone, but that felt comfortable; like he finally had space to breathe.

With no people fussing and no...stranger...sitting next to him, Ray rolled out of bed, deciding that exploring this world would be his best option. His bare feet froze on the tile floor and he quickly retracted them before trying once again, pushing through the chill on his soles.

He tried standing, but his legs decided otherwise, going numb and giving to his weight as soon as he put pressure on them. He let out a small yelp, holding onto the side of the bed to steady himself, but held it back as much as he could, not wanting to draw attention. Ray wanted to be alone for a bit.

_**It feels like I haven't used my legs in a while. I guess I was out for more than a few days...**_

Once again he pushed through, willing his legs to hold his weight as he dragged himself up, using the bed as a prop. His legs still shook with the effort, feeling almost like jelly, but he regained balance relatively quickly and continued his mission. First, he wanted to look outside his room.

Pulling the curtains back he found nothing particularly interesting about the room. It was rather large, with a worn wooden table and a few cushioned chairs pushed up against the far wall, stroon about rather chaotically. On the table was a stack of books, as thick as some of the more complicated texts at Gracefield or in the bunker. The chair in front of it faced a small screen, not unlike those at the bunker, which clung to the corner of the room like a spider. It was turned off, showing nothing but blackness and the room's reflection. At one side of the room was a closed door, blinds covering a window next to it. Ray could only assume it lead to a hallway, but was apprehensive about the attention he could attract by peeking through.

At the other end of the room was a rather large window, framed by delicate curtains. Ray's concern grew as he stepped forward a bit to inspect it, finding it wired shut not unlike the many windows at Gracefield. The glare from the sun beaming into the room, however, blinded Ray so he could not examine it further, but also gave him an important clue as to the time of day. He remembered the sun the day before had bathed the room in orange. He'd woken up late yesterday, but now it looked to be around midday, probably 1-2 PM.

_**So, I've probably been asleep for at least a day, if yesterday it was about dusk when I woke up.**_

Ray didn't dwell on it; he'd probably been in bad shape, though he didn't know why.

_**First, I need to find out where I am. If I look outside and it's familiar, it can't be the human world. In that case, I'm either in the demon world or I'm still in the Seven Walls.**_

So Ray, despite his temptation towards the stack of books, quietly made his way over to the window at the other side of the room. He scrutinized the lattice of wiring encasing the window, finding it beneath the glass and thin, exactly like Gracefield. He was meant to be trapped here. Ray clenched his teeth, banging on the window.

_**Shit...SHIT! I let those adults trick me!**_

However, as the sun hid behind a few clouds, Ray's surroundings became more discernible. He was high up, probably about 3 floors. Below him was a garden...or perhaps a park. Ray had never seen a human park before, but he'd assumed this is what it would look like from the books he'd read. It was filled with flowers of ever color and large, shady trees. Solid paths slithered throughout and dancing along them were people. Humans. So many humans.

Most of those walking around were children accompanied by adults who Ray presumed were their caretakers, perhaps even their parents and none wore the black and white outfits of the Mamas. The children showed no fear, running around playfully, though some meandered about with aid from an adult. Some even sat on chairs with wheels on them as another person guided them along, pushing slowly along the path.

_**There's no way I could have imagined this.**_

The view surprised Ray, but it didn't tell him much so he looked out further, past the haphazard mess of buildings that surrounded the park. The buildings themselves were taller than anything he'd seen before, but not quite the massive size he'd expected of the human world. He'd read of skyscrapers and high-speed trains, but this seemed more subdued, certainly not as massive as the cityscapes he'd read about. All of the buildings were of a similar height and color, sometimes dotted with glass ceilings, almost like a continuation of the same building. Perhaps it was.

However, in the distance, he could see mountains, brimming with the lush greenery Ray was used to. It made him yearn for home again, though he wasn't sure where that was anymore.

_**Where am I?**_

The thought only tiredly crossed his mind as he pushed away from the window. There would be no answers to the question unless he asked. He was no longer in a place he knew. Only the adults had the answers.

Ray's ears tuned to the world around him once again as he recovered from the initial shock. The beeping of machines caught his attention and he turned slightly to the curtain near the window, closed tightly for privacy.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he peeled back the cloth to reveal a boy, only a few years older than himself, wrapped in bandages and machines. He looked to be on death's door, his body unmoving and face, or what Ray could see through the bandages, purple and swollen. A few tubes emerged from his mouth, and Ray listened, realizing they were pumping air into his lungs.

_**I wonder if he's...dying?**_

_**What happened to him?**_

"O-Oh shit" a voice came from the doorway and Ray flipped his head around to meet it. A girl, probably only 10 years his senior, stood slack jawed and panicked. Wide eyes met his, framed by wide-rimmed glasses and messy, peach colored hair, "Oh shit you woke up. Um...stay there, I'll go get a nurse. Wait-" the girl rambled as she put her large, see-through cup down onto the table. Brown liquid sloshed around inside, making Ray mildly curious what the fluid was.

She continued to flail about, "Oh god- I can't loose this job. Kid, listen," she approached him a bit, placing her hands on his shoulders, "please don't tell them I was gone. I'll be right back. Just, please don't hurt yourself."

She was gone in a moment, leaving the door open behind her.

_**Hurt myself? With what?**_

Ray looked around the room once more, deciding to stay put for the frantic girl's sake. He looked at the stack of books next to the cup filled with an unknown, light-brown liquid, and picked one up.

_**Microbiology, huh? I've read something like this before at the house. It was way older though.**_

He began skimming it for new information, finding most of it similar to the information in the books back at Gracefield. It was a bit more difficult as well, using more complex scientific language, though Ray found it easy to deduce nonetheless.

The door opened again when he was halfway through the book. He'd only been skimming after all; a book this large would take him a few days to parse through. He looked up from the book, comfortably settled in a seat by the wall.

The panicky girl returned, gesturing to Ray as an older man and woman followed closely behind her. The man, who looked especially old, stepped forward and spoke "Ah, hello Ray! I'm Dr. Trenton. I've been helping you get better. We're glad you're awake, we just need to ask you some questions and make sure you're feeling okay. I just need you to climb up on that bed and we can see how your doing."

Ray quickly decided he did not like this 'Dr. Trenton'. The simplistic way the man spoke to him made Ray feel as though the man saw him as a child much younger, or perhaps more ignorant, than he actually was. He was old and graying, with large, goofy glasses and a mustache that completely eclipsed his top lip. Ray realized he was probably supposed to give off a friendly vibe but couldn't help but twitch in annoyance. Still, realizing he was outnumbered, he reluctantly complying to the old man's request.

The doctor closed the curtain, leaving only a small crack to the view the outside room through. He did very simple exercises with him and continued to talk to him as though he was a child, encouraging him through the examination. He listened to his heart through what Ray perceived to be a stethoscope, asked him to cough, did some eye movement exercises. He looked surprised when he looked once again at his chart, before asking some questions:

"Ray, do you know where you are?"

Ray shook his head, finding his voice still sore. He'd grown irritated by the man's presence, specifically all the touching, as well. So he blindly answered his questions, nodding for yes and shaking his head for no. Without a voice, Ray found it difficult to question the man in return, and his frustration grew.

It was during this he noticed the woman from before talking with the girl who'd intruded on his solitude. She was very mature looking, with pale skin, long brown hair and dark eyes. Her lips were a deep crimson, something Ray had never seen before, but he quickly deduced it was probably make-up. He'd never seen anyone wear any types of cosmetics before, not even his mother, so it was hard to tell what of the woman's face was natural and what was painted on.

"Ray, do you remember what happened to you?" the doctor continued while Ray stared at the woman. He snapped his attention back to the doctor, his irritation growing as he touched his throat, wishing to talk. He shook his head once more.

_**I want to know what happened. Please tell me what happened! Where am I? Where is everyone?**_

The doctor frowned a bit, obviously perplexed, but a tap on his shoulder kept him from moving on, "I'll handle it from here Dr. Trenton."

With a bit of a defeated look, the old man got up and left the room, scratching something down on his clipboard with the frazzled girl in tow. She'd taken the pile of books and drink as well, laboring under their weight as she closed the door behind them.

The woman pulled up a chair, settling down comfortably across from Ray, "Normally, your father would be in the room with us as well, but he's running a bit late and asked that we begin without him. I'm Dr. Karen Chestnut, the psychologist here at Shoreline Children's Hospital."

She held out her hand to Ray, and he hesitantly took it, shaking it firmly. This woman was treating him completely different from the man before, speaking patiently but not as though he was a child. It didn't take long for Ray to realize she'd been watching his interactions with the doctor. In a way, she must have been humoring him, though he was glad he was getting some kind of respect.

_**A Psychologist? Why would I need one of those?**_

"So, Ray, I know you're unable to speak because of your throat, so I brought you this." pulling her bulky bag to her side, Dr. Chestnut pulled out a pen and paper, "I was hoping to have a talk with you. Would that be okay?"

Ray nodded eagerly, determined to get to the bottom of his situation. Just as the woman handed him the pen and notebook, he began scratching things down.

"Now hold on Ray," she almost laughed, placing her hand lightly on his wrist to stop him, "Can I ask you some questions first?"

He frowned, but nodded, unresisting.

Sitting back once more, she pried deeper into his earlier response, "Okay, so you're sure you don't remember what happened?"

Ray looked at the notepad for a second before writing, crossing out some things and fixing what he'd written previously to fit into the context of the situation, "No, but I would like to."

She paused for a moment, perhaps reading his response, "Ray, have you been feeling sad recently? Like, really sad?"

His brow furrowed, confused by the question. He stared at her for a second before writing his answer, "I guess."

_**She doesn't want to say what happened to me? And what's up with that question?**_

Her hesitance to reveal his condition didn't seem to extend to deeper questions, "Is it your parents?"

Ray's shoulders dropped. She was acting just like the doctor, and the way it was looking, he'd never get to ask her any questions. He decided simple answers would suffice in the meantime, "No."

"Is it school?"

"No."

This answer seemed to take her aback, "You're sure it has nothing to do with school. You can tell me if something is wrong and we'll try to fix it."

_**What kind of dumb question is that? I've never been to school.**_

So, Ray responded with that, "No, I've never been to school."

For a few minutes, the woman's stare bore right through Ray. It was as though she'd just heard an animal speak for the first time or something, and was struck dumb in wonder by how crazy it was. Dr. Chestnut quickly steadied herself, but surprise was still palpable on her face, "So you don't want to talk. That's okay. Can I ask you about how life is going? How is it at home?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, how do you get along with your parents."

Ray stopped for a second, giving her a confused look, "My what?"

The two just stared at each other, confused, each trying to read the other's response. Dr. Chestnut suddenly paled and broke the brief silence, "Ray, do you remember where you live?"

Ray really had no home at the present moment. He couldn't say the Shelter or the Treehouse because both were gone, burnt to the ground by militant forces chasing them. He supposed he could say Gracefield but that place never felt like home to him, more like prison.

"No. I don't really have a place to live right now." he answered straightforwardly. He didn't see how it was important and didn't want to go into details.

Dr. Chesnut's eyes widened in concern, "When's your birthday, Ray?"

"January 15th, 2034."

She was quiet, still wide eyed in concern. In fact the woman seemed even more distressed, "Do you remember your name?"

Ray gave her a look of exasperation, "Ray."

"No, Ray, your full name. First, middle and last."

The question stilled Ray. He'd never had a 'full name' as one had never been given to him or any of the cattle children. Not even his mother. To the demons, they weren't worth the time or respect to give them a full name. They were born to die as food, that was all, "I've never had one."

She sat there for a few minutes, staring at him as though trying to read him. It was like she was trying to see through him, to see the truth. But Ray had told her the truth and finally, the woman composed herself and got back on track, "Ray, have you ever thought you'd be better off dead or wishing you were dead?"

The question came off as very genuine and it made Ray uncomfortable. He thought back to the Gracefield escape and before, when, yes, he thought that he and everyone else would be better off if he was dead. Even after that, there were times when the thoughts would pop up.

Then the kids would look at him and Emma would look at him and he realized...they needed him too. So he never acted on these thoughts again. Emma would drag him back to life anyway if he did, and damn she would be angry as a hornet when she did.

_**They needed her more…**_

His thoughts returned to his humiliating episode the previous day. His 'panic attack' the previous day had stirred up some side of him that still wanted to die. It was the side that couldn't handle being alone, without Emma and Norman and the rest of his family. It was a side of him that would give up at the drop of a hat.

Still, Ray wasn't really sure if he should answer a 'yes' or a 'no'. 'Yes' would bring about more questions and 'no' would bring on more prying. He wanted neither, only to find his friends.

_**I get it now. She's trying to figure out the state of my psyche. But why? And why does she look so disturbed?**_

"Not really." he finally answered.

Dr. Chestnut seemed to see right through it, "Really? Are you sure? You can tell me and I'm not allowed to tell anyone else."

"By whose authority?"

She stared at the response for a second before giggling. Ray felt a bit embarrassed before she clarified, "Federal law prevents anything said in this room from leaving this room unless it concerns your safety."

_**Federal? Meaning there's a government? Meaning I did escape?!**_

"Where am I?" he decided to follow up on this, as it was the biggest clue he'd gotten so far.

"Oh yes, you're in Shorli-"

"No I know I'm in Shoreline Children's Hospital. You said that. I mean where am I?" Ray rapidly scratched out, hoping the message would get across.

"You're…" she was choosing her words carefully, as though trying to convey the information in a way he could understand, "You're a few minutes outside of San Jose."

_**This woman really is not helpful. Where the hell is San Jose?**_

Ray let out an exasperated sigh before coughing a bit more. He steadied himself again before scratching down another follow up, "No, like, where in the world am I? What country?"

A frown once again graced her features, "California. You're in the United States, Ray."


	7. The Beautiful Mundane

Holding this ghostly woman's hand, traipsing through the halls of a hospital in a place he didn't know, Norman could only think of one thing: how absolutely embarrassed he was.

He'd just cried in front of a bunch of strangers in the arms of a woman he'd just met. Except...he had met her. The feeling of familiarity just wouldn't fade.

_**I know now! I know last time wasn't a fluke! I have memories that aren't mine...**_

Norman pondered the situation as they walked hand-in-hand back up to the familiarity of the fourth floor where he'd accidentally found himself about an hour earlier. He wondered, eyes glancing over at the curious gazes that followed him and the blond woman as they made their way through the maze of halls, if this is what the demon god had planned when he sent them to the human world.

_**This is completely incomprehensible but here I am, in a younger body surrounded by people who seem to know more about me than I do...**_

He hadn't cried in front of anyone since he was a child. He didn't cry when he found out his home was just a glorified farm for children. He didn't cry when he thought he was about to be walked off to his death. He didn't cry when he was at Lambda.

_**Well that's not completely true. **_Norman recalled the last time he'd cried in front of someone. Emma and Ray. When she told them…

_**No… I don't want to think about that…**_

Norman squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his free hand tightly into a fist, willing the memories away. He didn't want to think of Emma's last moments. Her smile. The gate. The void of white. He didn't want to remember any of it. He wanted to remember her smiling.

He opened his eyes once more as a cold logic washed over him as he vowed to turn his pain into something productive. Just like every time he cried or felt he couldn't go on.

_**There is no use in crying.**_ Norman reminded himself as he tailed the spectral woman who tugged gently at his hand. His eyes wandered to her face as she smiled gently and waved at all those she passed.

When he was with those two adults, they stirred in him a mellow sort of sadness; like he'd lost something precious and was trapped in a bubble, unable to get everything he wanted to say out loud. It was like there was some part of his psyche that was trapped but he had no idea how to access it.

_**No...No I do! Their smell brings forth memories. **_Norman realize, recalling each of the situation which had led to his strange, mismatched memories.

Norman suddenly remembered one of the many books that Ray had recommended he read; one about memory. Apparently, olfactory memory was particularly strong as is was enduring and not prone to interference. It made sense to Norman now as to why Ray would recommend such a book, seeing how oddly exceptional his friend's memory was.

"Look, I know you know what you're doing, I'm not saying you don't Dr. Hazel. I am just concerned about the course her treatment. You'll be giving her some pretty severe treatments early on. I feel it's justifiable to worry about quality of life…"

The voice gave Norman pause. He knew it was James. He knew the man probably didn't mean him any harm, despite how upset he'd sounded. He also knew, somehow, that he'd be forgiven if he just entered the room and apologized for running away.

Yet he still felt so apprehensive about the notion. Norman's stomach did flips as he contemplated the position he was in.

Abruptly, the woman's hand drifted from his own, so smoothly Norman nearly didn't notice, as she walked forward into a nearby room. He stopped, unsure if he should follow, instead stalling in the hallway and resting his head against the glass of a darkened room.

He took the time to ponder his situation further, contemplating all he'd seen and felt and wondering if he should try once again to make a run for it and find Ray. They needed to save Emma…

"This isn't some baby cancer Dr. Ratri and if we don't attack it hard and fast it will spread. This is the second time it's returned, and she's already had multiple procedures to try and remedy her situation, including gene therapy." A woman's voice responded resolute in her argument. They must have been discussing the ghostly woman...his mother. "A little bit of discomfort for a few months isn't so bad compared to the alternatives I have been Mel's oncologist for multiple years and if you don't think –"

"Excuse me is something wrong?" the ghostly woman stepped out from next to Norman and into the middle of the two arguing parties.

"Ah – honey?!" James had stopped, his voice turning anxious, "Did you find him? Is he okay?"

"Yes, I found him, he's fine; just a little shaken up." the woman's peered at him from around the corner, offering her hand once more and waiting patiently for him, "Mon petit agneau, do you want to come inside?"

Norman looked at her, hesitating awkwardly before taking a few timid steps into the dimming room. As expected, James stood there looking like a mountain compared to the tiny woman Norman assumed he'd been arguing with. The man just smiled, taking a few easy paces toward him before kneeling to eye-level with Norman, "Norman…"

He was prepared to be scolded, not embraced, but that's just what James did, "I'm so sorry Norman, I didn't mean to scare you. Please don't run away like that anymore. Everyone was so worried."

The man pulled back and smiled a troubled smile, "Can you tell me about your dream when we get home? Then we can figure out what that mark was about."

He believed me?!

Norman only let his surprise light his features for a brief moment, before he relaxed and returned a sheepish smile, "Okay."

He was honestly too tired to explain everything to the man; _**Well, apparently everyone here knows everything about me. Yet nothing about the demon world. So what do I say? How do I explain myself without sounding completely insane?**_

It was becoming tiresome for him to tip-toe around facts to find out what they would believe. He quickly and fondly looked back on a time before he knew about the demons and the farms and Lambda. God, what he wouldn't give to go back to such peaceful days.

_**I have a feeling there's no way he'd believe me if I told him the truth. This world has no demons. This world has no child farms. Certainly something like that would be considered outlandish to these people. At one point in time, I would have found it outlandish as well...**_

"Bonjour, Esmé! What have you and my husband been discussing?" the ghostly woman, who Norman assumed was named 'Mel' given the prior conversation, greeted the mousy-haired woman energetically, maneuvering around James and Norman to give her a hug, "Essaie-t-il de redevenir mon médecin? Je lui ai dit d'arrêter!"

"Oui, je crains. Mais je peux le gérer." She responded with a sigh in the same wispy language as the blond. It was honestly mind-boggling that to Norman that the two understood each other, but he reasoned there were many human languages that were forsaken by the cattle children when they were locked away. There was no point in any more than one language amongst cattle. In fact, it probably would have made them harder to control.

"James! What have you been talking to Dr. Hazel about?" Mel huffed as she turned to James, appearing a bit miffed. Norman was surprised how much she reminded him of Emma, but immediately dropped the thought, as if he was repulsed by it. There was something off-putting about comparing the two.

_**But perhaps that's why I felt such a strong connection with her? **_

James stood, arms raised like a man caught red handed, sputtering out a response "Just...you're treatments - I just don't think you should- look can we talk about this at home?"

"James, please. This is my decision and you are not my doctor. Esmé is. I think you should respect that."

"I do! Esmé, you know I respect you as a fellow professional!" James turned to the woman in question, a petite young woman with tawny brown hair cut into a bob. She looked like she didn't want to be involved in this marital dispute, and to be honest, neither did Norman, but in the end she just shook her head.

James turned back to Mel, who was waiting expectantly, "I just worry that you'll…that you'll lose heart my love. Two chemotherapy treatments? At the same time? It's too much too soon…" it seemed challenging her made him incredibly uncomfortable, "There are other options that have worked before. We've fought this before-"

"Yes, I know James. I've been fighting it, on and off, for eight years now." Mel cut him off flatly. Suddenly, she looked very tired, "And it keeps coming back. I'm getting tired of fighting James. I want to keep going, but it's getting hard. I just want this to be over…"

The last few words came out as a whisper, one Norman could barely make out. He was thrown back into the memory he'd had when he first met her.

"I'm sick my love."

_**She's not just sick...she's dying…**_

Some part of him already knew that. Some part of him knew that her continued existence was just a long goodbye. Some part of him, no, perhaps all of him, wanted that to be a lie. He stubbornly wanted to fight against fate or time or whatever god ruled them and make her better again.

The two were close now, Mel reaching up to touch James's face as he smiled sadly at her, whispering "I just don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose this you, the one standing in front of me."

"And that's why I want to keep fighting. I want to keep going for you and…" she looked back at him with a soft smile before her gaze slipped around the room and turned back to James, he face now sharp but her smile some mirth,"Or perhaps you want a new busty blond since I've got a few pieces missing!"

"Madame Mélodie Ratri, il n'y a personne sur cette planète qui puisse se comparer à toi. Aucune partie ne vaut mieux que vous tous." he responded, pulling her into a kiss. Esmé, smiling bashfully, excused herself, whisking around Mel and James and then sliding past Norman, who remained, also a bit flustered, in the doorway.

He looked away, blushing a bit. _**It feels like I'm intruding...**_

Mel pulled away, face flushed, "Ah mon amour, I love it when you speak french to me! You make it sound so beautiful!"

Norman was grateful that some color came back into the woman, Mélodie's, face and also that the tension between the two seemed to abate so easily. It was almost...cute.

The nostalgic feeling from before began creeping up once again as he looked at them, perhaps reminding some part of him of happier times buried within these new memories. A mumbling from the other side of the room, however, interrupted the warm feeling, "Ugg, ew. Gross."

Norman's eyes turned to meet a teenage girl, one with long blond hair and ocean blue eyes strikingly similar to Mélodie, even down to the mole that dotted just below the corner of her left eye. She looked only a few years older than Norman, but had the charm of a toddler with how she'd positioned herself. Her legs were wide open, feet perched on the table and hair cascading every which way. As she nonchalantly played with a screen in her hands, Norman wondered how she'd even seen the kiss when she seemed to be so preoccupied.

She then turned her attention to Norman, maybe noticing the slight scowl he'd thrown her way, "I'm surprised shit-head. Usually you're right up there commenting on every little thing."

"Hey, Brittany, can you watch the language?" James corrected her, pulling away from his wife and turning an irritated gaze toward the girl.

A disinterested 'pffft' was all that escaped her lips as she turned her attention back to the screen, tapping away. Norman couldn't help but feel a prick of irritation by her impertinent behavior, but he ignored it when he noticed the adults looking at him.

"Norman, are you okay?" Mélodie and James were staring at him, concern in their eyes, as the latter spoke "Britta's right, usually you'd be asking all kinds of questions about what's going on. Especially after all that's happened."

He nodded slightly in response, not wanting to worry them, "No I'm fine." Norman paused, looking at the floor, twiddling his thumbs a bit "I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble. I'm sorry for running away from you James."

The two adults looked at him wide eyed, seemingly taken aback by the statement. Britta too looked up for a second, before her eyes wandered back to her screen. Finally, James spoke up, a bit bewildered, "What, are we on a first name basis now? Too big to call me 'Dad'?"

"I-I…" Norman stammered, his face turning red as he looked for anything else to pull his attention towards. It sounded as though James had been trying to make a joke or ease the tension, but it didn't really do anything for Norman, just made him more aware of how out of place he felt. Finally, he relented, breathing out a short "S-sorry Dad."

_**Oh my god I just called William Minerva my father.**_

"Why would you think you were causing trouble? We're worried about you Norman." Mélodie cut in, sliding out of James's embrace. She stepped towards him, hands reaching out to cup his face and pull it up to meet her eyes, "My little lamb, you don't seem all that...lucid. It's almost like you're anxious about something. Are you sure everything is okay? Is there anything you want to talk about?"

"I'm just...tired." Norman replied, feeling almost defeated as the woman frowned and eased her hands around him, once again pulled him into an embrace. Norman surrendered to her once more, finding it near impossible to fight her off despite her weaker constitution. He found he didn't really want to.

"Sissy." muttered the girl in the corner, breaking through the moment.

James shot her another warning glare as he placed a calming hand on his wife's shoulder, "Britta, please. Not today."

James came up behind the woman, rubbing Norman's free shoulder a bit, trying to be comforting. Finally, he kneeled down to eye level and took Norman's hand, "Hey, I promise, I don't think you're crazy bud. Whatever is happening, you can tell me when we get home."

"UGG yes! Can we go home now?" Britta loudly exclaimed, pulling herself up from a lounging position in the most inelegant way Norman thought possible. Despite their physical similarities, Britta was completely different from their mother in every way.

_**Mother…**_

_**Our mother...**_

"Yes Brittany, we can go home now." James groaned, obviously exasperated by the girl. He let go of Norman's hand and began gathering a few bags that laid around the room. Mel didn't move, still holding him tightly.

_**So that's my sister?**_

Norman had given in to it. He'd given into this idea of family. James Ratri was his father. Mélodie Ratri was his mother. Brittany was his older sister. He realized he'd given into that familiar feeling and it was almost like living in a fever dream. It was far too good to be true.

He caught himself, _**No...these people are not my parents. Stop. Stop. STOP.**_

_**What happened to my life before? Will that go away? Everything that happened mattered! It all mattered to me!**_

_**I just want it all to stop. I need to think!**_

"Norman, baby." a hand came up to smooth back his bangs. He followed it up, looking up to see Mam-Mélodie's pained face. He was crying again, head buried in her chest, "My sweet, sensitive boy. I bet you're hungry. Let's go home now."

She made it feel better. She made the feeling of losing his mind feel significantly better somehow.

...

They walked, returning to the entrance from which James and Norman had entered earlier. The sun was setting and an orange glow enveloped the whole city as twilight rapidly approached.

Norman pondered his situation as he walked hand-in-hand with Mélodie, _**Maybe this has something to do with the Seven Walls? No, Ray said they work by imagination, and certainly I'd be elsewhere if my imagination was controlling this. Why would I be in this situation? What IS this situation?**_

He looked up at James and Mel, who were entertaining themselves with a conversation he wasn't really paying attention to. Norman could feel Britta's eyes following him closely as she followed behind them, but every time he looked back she was seemingly preoccupied with her phone.

_**Perhaps this is what the demon god meant when he said he'd take us to the human world? He'd insert us into some life so we could live happily with a family?**_

Suddenly, the stipulation that their memories be wiped made sense. It would be easier to pick up living in such a life with no memories and no reason to question the world around them. They'd made it to the human world, but they weren't free to live their own lives, they had to live someone else's'.

In shock, he must have let go of the woman's - whom he realized really might actually be his mother - hand and fell a few places behind. An arm looped around his head and fingernails dug into his ear, "Come on fuck-face, you're slow!"

As Norman was dragged by his ear down the hall he began to wonder how he would survive possibly sharing a house with such a brutish girl. He'd never experienced anything other than a demon who had such aggressive tendencies.

_**Well, I've dealt with far worse beasts. **_He reasoned, struggling out of her vice-like grip. Britta certainly was as strong as she was openly hostile.

James and Mélodie, his mother and father, seemed to ignore the small scuffle happening behind them, wrapped up in their own conversation. Norman couldn't help but feel a bit betrayed as ear pinching turned into a full-on headlock. He dug his claws into the older girl's arm, struggling to get her off.

"Oh my god Normie, you're such a wimp!" she chuckled, a cat-like smile creeping on her face as she stared down at him, struggling. She was obviously enjoying his misery.

_**What a twisted girl! Why the hell is she being so malicious?**_

"Ow, ow, OW!" he shrieked as he was aggressively pulled down the halls of the hospital.

"Enough you two!" James snapped as he turned back toward his children, annoyance painted clearly on his face, "We are in a hospital! Please, be quiet; have some respect!"

Brittany let go cooly, crossing her arms with a huff. Norman recoiled back as soon as she did and ran to tail Mélodie and James more closely, prefering to keep some distance between himself and the obviously malevolent creature he'd found himself related to. Her glare continued to melt into his back as he walked beside the two adults, but didn't dare look back.

Suddenly, Norman felt James's arm wrapped around him as he was pushed to Mel's side and looped in the opposite direction of the entrance. The movement was so quick and smooth he didn't even know what had happened until he was facing Britta, who James grabbed as they passed.

"Hey, Dr. Ratri!"

"James Ratri! We'd just like a word!"

Norman shot a glance back at the doors where the voices had come from. Two well-dressed people, a woman and a man with large camera's not unlike the one Ray had at Gracefield, followed them until they were stopped by security.

The two seemed to have spooked James as the whole family picked up their pace; even Britta had put away her screen, seemingly sensing the urgency of the situation.

"The press again?" Mélodie asked in a harsh whisper. James nodded in response, "I don't know what their problem is. This is completely inappropriate, cornering me in a hospital! We'll just have to try another entrance."

With rushed steps, the family walked through the hospital labyrinth, James holding tightly to all of them as the made their way through. He almost seemed to be positioning them away from the windows; a difficult task in a building made almost entirely of glass.

The sudden shift in mood of the family alarmed Norman. He felt claustrophobic shoved under Mélodie's arm and crushed between her waist and James's hand. He tried to keep pace with them, but felt more like he was being dragged along as his feet clumsily tried to match with the rest of the family's.

_**What happened? Who were those people? The press? As in newspaper press? What do they want with James?**_

Norman looked back a few times, but it didn't look as though they were being followed and he began to wonder why their pace felt so urgent. As they reached the other entrance, one from which Norman had previously tried to escape, only to find it awash with security, he realized why.

Opening the door, the group was met with a tidal wave of people and James braced himself, "Dammit, here too?"

A crowd of people swarmed them almost at once, pushing like a wall against Norman, who suddenly understood why James had been so disturbed by the to reporters earlier. The group seemed to lack all civility, instead deciding to act like a flock of birds scrambling for a piece of food. The two from before were just a preview.

_**What could lead people to behave like this? Why do they want James so bad?**_

The group was held back only slightly by James, who tried to cut his way through the crowd, gripping tightly onto Mélodie and Norman. At one point, Britta became lost among the crowd, though James found her hand rather quickly and pulled her back towards him. Cameras flashed, blinding Norman and the others, and the hoard of voices united into an unpleasant cacophony.

"Dr. Ratri how do you feel about-"

"Mr. Ratri, why didn't you attend the hearing last week about-"

"James, who's been using RRx's money for-

"Hey, Jimmy, what are you going to tell the shareholders about-"

"James Ratri, when are you going to own up to-"

James ignored all of the questions in favor of pushing through the crowd with his family, his face looking intensely forward. Finally, the metaphorical at the end of the tunel came about as the writhing crowd gave way as two men in blue uniforms, whom Norman assumed were like the security from the hospital, parted the crowd back, allowing James and the rest to get through. As they did, the family was greeted by a black car with dark, tinted windows, that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

James ushered Britta, Mel and Norman into the car one by one before slamming the car door behind them. Norman realized he was shaking, looking at his hands as the vibrated, and tried to catch his breath. Britta did the same, hands gripping tightly onto the black leather seats. Their mother sat between them, looking completely miserable with her head in her hands.

James, still outside the car, smiled sarcastically at the crowd, leaving them with a firm 'No comment.', before tucking himself into the passenger seat. As he did, he glared at the driver, a bald man in a fine suit with sunglasses obscuring his eyes. He seemed intimidating, but not as though he was an immediate danger. He didn't even look at James as he began driving.

"Peter told you to come get us, didn't he?" the name sent a shiver down Norman's spine and he unconsciously grabbed onto Mel's skirt. She wrapped an arm around his head and eased Norman onto her shoulder in return, stroking his hair soothingly. Norman focused harder on the conversation.

"He was wondering when you would be returning to work." the driver replied flatly, "He was very disappointed about last week's hearing."

"My son was sick." James nearly cut him off, scowling at the man, "And my wife is sick. I sent them my condolences and asked to reschedule. I have been nothing but cooperative despite the situation."

Finally, the driver glanced at James, "Peter was wondering if you were ready to step-down -"

"No, absolutely not. I know what his plan is. I know he sent the reporters to ambush me. I'm not an idiot, Vasil." this time, through gritted teeth, James did interrupt him "Paid off security too, that prick. With my family here. God, that man has no empathy…or tact."

A moment of silence passed between the two as James rubbed his face in exhaustion, as Norman sometimes found himself apt to do when stressed. As the man pinched the bridge of his nose he muttered something Norman wasn't sure he was supposed to hear, "It's not as easy as it looks, you know."

_**Oh...I know…**_ Norman couldn't help but empathize with his father.

"We'll send someone to pick up your car." was the last thing the driver said. He was silent the rest of the ride, focused only on the road in front of him.

Britta, like Norman, had found her head resting on Mélodie's shoulder. The woman had taken to petting both of them, with a stray kiss placed upon each of their heads on occasion. James looked back occasionally too with a sad sort of fondness, but was busy typing something out on his phone most of the trip.

Another tide of exhaustion hit Norman as he settled himself onto Mel's shoulder. She, in turn, rested her cheek on top of his head, holding him close. Her rhythmic petting did nothing to aid his slipping consciousness and his eyes began to flutter shut as he fought to stay awake.

His stomach had its own agenda, however, and each bump in the road threatened to reawaken his nausea and spill the sparse contents of his stomach once more. Norman swallowed the feeling back as much as he could, fighting between sleep and retching. Finally, his queasiness began to win, nearly overtaking him as they went down a particularly steep hill.

Norman quickly covered his mouth as bile threatened once again to erupt from it. He huddled himself into a ball, hoping to ward the sickness away, as Mel began inquiring to his blight. He couldn't focus on her words however; he could only focus on keeping his stomach contents down. She seemed to recognize this, and instead took to rubbing soothing circles into his back, hoping to aid in his struggle.

"I guess barf baby is going to stink up another car." Norman flushed a bit a Britta's comment, shooting her a half-hearted glare.

"Britta please -" Mélodie attempted to get between them, pivoting to give the girl a half-hearted scowl.

"Go ahead and puke already. Wouldn't be the first nice leather interior you've completely wrecked." Britta continued goading him, having pulled away from her mother's embrace to look callously out the window.

Norman finally had enough, reluctantly swallowing down whatever was threatening to come out his mouth, "What's your problem?"

"My problem? What the fuck do you mean? What's your problem?"

"What's your problem with me?" Norman repeated, trying to match the girl's level of venom. His voice came out to weak and quiet, however, and it sounded lukewarm at best.

Britta glared at him, nearly leaning over Mélodie to do so, "You wanna know my problem with you?" her voice raised a bit, she jabbed a finger in his face, "You're an ungrateful little know-it-all shit-stain. You know exactly what you do and you never fucking own up to it."

She sat back in her chair, resuming her position of keeping watch out the window, "I hate your fucking guts, that's what my problem is."

James sighed, flopping back in his chair, "Please you two. Stop fighting. And Brittany PLEASE watch your language."

Brittany huffed as she resumed her quiet contemplation, her body tenser than before as she wore a scowl so intense Norman was sure she was trying to burn a hole through the window. The strained mood that hung in the stale car air before was now oppressive, hanging like a weight on Norman's shoulders.

Somehow, though, even with such an atmosphere, everything resumed as normal. James continued to glare at his screen, Britta's gaze continued to be focused in the far-off distance outside the window, sparing glances at her phone occasionally, and her mother continued to fuss over Norman.

As for Norman, he had been taken aback by the outburst, to say the least. He could nearly feel the rage seeping through every word said to him and bubbling through every movement even as she sat quietly, head resting on the window. He stared after Britta, trying to remember if he'd ever met anyone who held such intense malice towards him. Not even Ayshe had been that vicious towards him, and he'd (accidentally) killed her father-figure. Anxiously, he began to wonder what he'd done to the girl to get her so worked up.

Suddenly shocked once more from his thoughts as another bump stirred his aching stomach. He let out a groan and curled up once more into a tight ball, his arms covering his face from the bright light of the setting sun.

"My love, it's only a little bit further." she consoled, still rubbing circles into his back. At this point her efforts were becoming futile, as Norman was beginning to feel only numbness from the overstimulation.

_**Who would have known riding in a car would be this awful? Maybe it's something you get used to?**_

He'd tried to avoid looking out the window for the ride in an effort to soothe his stomach, but found his curiosity getting the better of him. He peeked through his arms, seeing the tops of trees letting through dappled light. The familiar sweetness of bird song reminded him of Gracefield.

_**It feels like I'm going home…**_

_**Well...I am I guess...**_

Finally, he decided to get a better look, untangling himself from his sitting position and clawing his way up toward the car window. Propping his head on the car window, he found the large overgrowths of trees to be a far cry from the city towers they'd been surrounded by only a few minutes prior.

Occasionally, an exceptionally large house, often rather garish in decoration, would dot the landscape between trees. They easily dwarfed Gracefield house, which had held over thirty children, leaving Norman to wonder what they could possibly be used for.

_**People live in these?! No...these must be orphanages, right? There's no way a single family would need all this space.**_

There was something about the remoteness of each property, however, and the frequency of which he saw a new, sometimes even more lavish house, that told Norman that wasn't the case. To him, there was something fantastically wasteful about such a small amount of people taking up so much space, though he assumed that was just because he hadn't lived in such a way.

_**Maybe this is normal in the human world? With so much space and no natural predators, humans can live wherever and however they please.**_

Thoughts of demons, with their many disgusting eyes and viciously clawed hands, only served to further upset his stomach, so he resumed his curled position. His thoughts returned to trying to quell the storm of bile that was trying to overtake him, bubbling in his guts ready to erupt.

A sharp turn nearly lost him the fight and he jolted up groggily as the car slowed. Popping his head up, he wound the car met with a gate, nearly as tall as the wall that surrounded Gracefield and nearly as imposing. It's tall black bars latticed at the top, offering no foothold to allow for climbing.

James and the driver exchanged a few words as the former fiddled with his keys, pulling one off and giving the rest to the latter. The gate then opened rather slowly and the car continued it's journey down a narrow road encased by the branches of evenly spaced trees. At the end of the road stood a fountain, water flowing steadily from the arms of a winged child.

_**What eccentricities.**_ Was all Norman could think as he slid back down into his seat, head resting against the handle of the door. He was far too groggy to think about the implications of the gate, and he found himself overcome with a headache when he tried.

The car slowed once more to a stop but Norman could no longer work up the effort to claw back towards the window. His body had become too tired of fighting his stomach and his brain was beginning to throb.

James exited the car rather quickly, followed by Britta. Mel tried to shake Norman awake, but he didn't want to move. He was relishing in the sudden lack of motion from the car, trying to get his bearings so he could escape from the oppressive stale air.

Before he could, however, James opened the door, causing Norman to fall out inelegantly, though he managed to roll on his feet. He tried to steady himself, falling a few paces backwards before James' arm caught him, helping him steady. Mélodie slipped out of the car after him with far more grace.

"Okay sport, let's get you inside." James soothed as he wrapped his arm around Norman's shoulder, turning him towards his new home.

It was a mosaic of grey stone, trimmed in black, formed a rather imposing structure in front of him. Bushes caressed the building, allowing a bit of color to grace the rather monochrome color scheme. A balcony above the front door , fenced in the same delicate black gate that seemingly surrounded the building, shaded the porch below and stretched the front of the building. Grand windows dotted the building, caressed on the inside by ornate black drapes.

The man who drove them had already darted off by the time James guided him toward the black door, decorated in ornate silver door knockers and knobs. Britta was already there, twisting the silver knob and pushing her weight into the door. It opened without complaint, not even a squeak and she proceeded inside.

Groggily, Norman followed James up the short flight of white marble stairs, the smell of food hitting him just outside of the threshold, irritating his still delicate stomach. He let out a quiet moan in misery, wishing for his motion sickness to end.

"I guess Frusina's already inside. I thought she'd gone home for the day…" James commented as he waited for Mélodie to make her way up the stairs.

Her short white heels gave her little trouble as she hoped up the steps, taking in the smell of food, "It smells like...stuffed eggplant!" she exclaimed, as the three entered a large foyer with darkened oak floors, "I wonder if she made sarma."

"Honestly, that woman is a blessing..." James murmured under his breath as his body untensed. He settled down the bag on his shoulder, which Norman had forgotten he'd been carrying since they'd left his hospital room, next to a small table by the door decorated with a lamp and a small box labeled 'Keys'.

James' arm uncoiled from around him as he proceeded toward a small arched entryway to the right, where the smell of food wafted like smoke from a fire. Mel followed closely with a renewed pep in her step. Britta, on the other hand, was climbing a grand staircase at the other end of the room, not looking back at the rest of her family.

A woman suddenly popped out from the archway to the right, meeting James and Mel, "Ah, James, Mélodie! Welcome home, I made dinner. It'll be done in twenty minutes."

Norman found her speech to be heavily accented but not unpleasant. As for the woman herself, who he assumed to be 'Frusina', she was quite beautiful, with tanned skin, long, dark hair and blue eyes like sapphires. She was a bit taller than Mel, whom she greeted with a tight hug.

"Sina you didn't need to do that! We could have ordered out." James argued half-heartedly. It was obvious a weight had seemingly been taken off his shoulders.

"Nonsense, you guys deserve to eat a nice home cooked meal after everything you've been through the past couple days!" Sina argued, huffing a bit, "Plus, I haven't seen Melodie or Norman in three days! I made stuffed eggplant and sarma, just for you."

Mélodie seemed to revel in this, bouncing up and down as she twirled past Sina, "Thank you me dear! You are too good to me!"

Sina looked past the two at Norman, "Tomorrow is your day sweetheart. What would you like for dinner?"

Norman paused, staring at the woman blankly. The question caught him off guard, and his lack of response seemingly through the dark haired woman off too. James whispered something in her ear which made her jump and she smiled at him sadly before skipping over to him.

"How are you feeling sweetheart?" Sina asked in a soft tone as she pulled him into a loose hug, which Norman fell into limply. He found her nearly as warm and familiar as his mother had been.

"Fine…" he answered weakly, but it seemed to please the woman who pulled back after giving his head a few satisfied pats.

"Good! Then why don't you go upstairs and take a shower. Dinner will be done when you get out." she offered, "I'll make you pancakes in the morning, then we can resume your lessons if you want."

Norman only nodded tiredly, staring after the woman as she twirled back into the kitchen. She seemed younger than James and Mel and very vibrant, absolutely brimming with life. Again, it reminded him of Emma, but her appearance was also somehow familiar.

Somehow, despite the stateliness of the exterior, the inside of the Ratri home did feel welcoming. The foyer, in contrast with the dark oak wood, was painted a light blue not unlike the color of the sky. The rug that lined the grand staircase at the opposite end from the door made the structure less lofty, with it's blue and red patterning. While the room seemed a bit empty, everything that did exist in the space seemed to be antique, with each piece telling a story.

His gaze wandered up to the balcony at the top of the stairs, reasoning that a bathroom must be upstairs. Perhaps a bath would calm his stomach.

Once at the top, however, Norman had no clue where he was headed. To his right, light leaked out of a cracked doorway and curiosity got the better of him. He wandered towards it, peaking inside to find a violently pink room, a mess with clothes strewn about the floor and papers on every surface. Little planetary bodies like the ones from astronomy books he used to read when he was eight hung from the ceiling. Golden stars pasted on the ceiling laid in the spaces between each celestial body.

A hiss startled Norman, and he jumped back to find a white ball of angry fluff at his feet. The creature had a face so flat, he could have probably eaten from it, and bulging eyes that were somewhat repulsive. He kneeled down and reached his hand out to pet the creature, only for it to hiss once more and swat at him.

Norman recoiled in confusion as Britta came behind the creature, easily scooping it up whilst glaring at him, "It's no surprise she doesn't like you. What do you want? Trying to steal my cat again?"

"N-no. I was just…" he sputtered out a response, somewhat intimidated by the girl in front of him and confused on what he'd ever want with such a strange creature, "I was just looking for my room."

"What the hell do you mean 'looking for my room'? It's on the other end of the hall!" she pointed for emphasis, "You gotta find better alibis egg-head. Go. Away."

With that she slammed the door, leaving Norman to his own devices once more. He looked across the hall to another door left wide open, darkness leaking into the hall in front of it. He crossed the hall and, passing through the threshold, he flicked on the light.

The room was a soft periwinkle and completely immaculate when compared to Britta's room. To his right sat a large bed with a thick white comforter and pillows, pristinely made without a single stain or blemish. Beside the bed, to the right, was a small table furnished with only a lamp and a rather large book. Even further to the right stood a short white dresser, only about as high as his hip, which a mirror hovered above. To the left of the bed sat a white door with a coat hanging from it.

On the other side of the room was a plain white desk, situated next to a filing cabinet probably as tall as he was and a large window that let in the remainder of the setting sun's light. A large screen sat propped up in the middle with a black tower to it's right. The box was rather large, probably about as big as a suitcase, with an window like pannel on the side exposing a controlled mess of wires and circuits.

_**Is this a computer?! **_Norman wandered over to the tower, peeking inside, _**I'd love to tear into this with…**_

_**Ray**_...his dark haired friend's excited smile as the disassembled clocks and other trinkets sat with him for a second. Somehow his enthusiasm for the computer waned, and he turned his attention elsewhere.

To his left was a darkened room, once again with a wide open door. He stepped inside to reveal a bathroom, awash with white, blue and soft yellow tiles.

_**Is all of this...mine?**_

He looked around for another exit but found none, _**If this really is my room...this is huge…**_

His room was easily about as big as the rooms at Gracefield, which typically held at least ten children. He had this one all to himself, complete with his own bathroom.

He looked around at the sink counter-top to his right, complete with a mirror above it. Once again Norman caught sight of his blank neck and flinched back, looking away. At the other end of the room was a toilet and to his left was a bath, enclosed by a glass door. He decided to take Sina's advice and slid it open.

Inside was some kind of silver handle, now facing downward. It was unlike the simple tubs at Gracefield or Lambda, but he tried it anyway, pulling the handle up. Nothing happened.

_**What?**_

He fiddled with it some more, giggling it from side to side before pulling it out. Finally, the water began to gush out, but the tub itself refused to hold any water, instead immediately draining it.

_**Where's the drain plug? **_

Norman looked to the chain to plug up the drain, which was meshed, rather than a simple hole like he was used to. He turned his attention back to levers on the wall and pulled the one above the faucet up curiously.

The water changed its course, now sprinkling from an alien looking faucet near the ceiling. Surprised, Norman fell back onto his rear, looking at the water now sprinkling down.

He sighed, turning off the water, _**I just want a bath. I'm too tired for this, I figure you out tomorrow.**_

With that he left the bathroom, flicking the lights off as he did. He stared at the room before him, eyes drifting to the cloud-like bed that beckoned him so temptingly. Norman trudged foreward, falling onto the bed and finding it just as soft and inviting as he imagined.

In the dimming light he lost track of time and closed his eyes.

…

Norman wasn't sure how long he was asleep. In fact, he wasn't even sure if he was asleep because there had been no warning or dreams, not even nightmares. He only stirred himself when he felt a gentle poking at his cheek.

"Norman...Norman…" a voice called out to him in the dark, "Your dinner has been done for a while. We got a little worried when you didn't come down. Do you still want your food?"

It was Mélodie, proving to Norman he had not been dreaming and this whole day had actually happened. Still groggy, he nodded at the woman, who slowly got up and beckoned for him to follow.

As he emerged from his room, Norman realized his nausea had subsided, but his exhaustion hadn't. Still, his stomach was now begging for sustenance, having been without any for quite some time. He dragged himself down the stairs and to the kitchen.

The faint remainder of the smell of food hung in the air, now making Norman salivate. Britta, James and Sina were nowhere to be seen, but Mel had taken to placing his food into a box sitting just underneath some cabinets.

The kitchen was incredibly spacious and blindingly white, with only the occasional silverish appliance dotting in between the white cabinets. The floor had also transition from the dark wood of the foyer to a lighter wood, adding to the blinding nature of the kitchen. A window encircled by linen curtains probably would have been enough to light the whole kitchen, but as the sun had gone down typically kitchen lights seemed to suffice.

In the middle of the room sat a small counter top, which Norman found a bit odd, with two stools in front. Mélodie placed his food in front of one of them, now steaming hot, "Sorry, I know you don't like your food reheated."

"N-no this is fine. Thank you." Norman replied to her apologetically. He briefly wondered why he would complain about such a thing. It seemed like such a small thing.

The food tasted amazing anyway. He dug into it enthusiastically, _**I'll have to thank Frusina.**_

Mel danced around the counter, placing a light kiss on his head as he graciously ate his dinner, "I'll be in the library my little lamb."

She vanished, but Norman hardly noticed. He hadn't felt so hungry in a long time. Still, the claws of sleep threatened to drag him down once more and he began to feel drowsy after a few bites. His chewing slowed as he fought to keep his head from falling onto the plate, almost failing at least once before jerking himself back to the world of the waking once more.

Finally, he finished to food, plate nearly licked clean, and wiped his face. He dragged himself over to the sink, washing the red sauce from the plate before placing it to the side. He looked around for a moment, wondering where he could put it, before leaving it by the sink reluctantly.

_**I guess I'll have to figure out the layout of this house sometime…**_

_**But not tonight. **_Norman decided, _**I want to sleep.**_

As he made his way to return to his room, however, a small stream of light coming from the left caught his attention. He wandered over to the glass and wood doors, pushing them open carefully. In the corner, now adorned with a pair of reading glasses, sat his mother, reading a book.

_**It still feels weird. 'My mother'...**_

"Hello mon petit agneau, did you enjoy your dinner?" she asked, looking up from her book.

He nodded, a sleepy smile gracing his features as his eyes explored the room, "Yeah…"

The library was one of the few things in the house that was underwhelming. There were only six book cases, each pressed against the wall, though all seemed to be at least filled with books. The room seemed more like a sitting room, with more antique but soft looking furniture and many paintings strewn about the walls.

Norman picked a couch across from Mel and laid down, head resting contentedly on some pillows on the arm, "What are you reading Maman?"

It somehow felt so much easier to call her 'Maman' than it was to call James 'Dad'. He didn't know why, perhaps because he knew what the man had done in their previous life.

Mélodie simply smiled at him, "Nietzsche's '_The Gay Science_'. Normally, I wouldn't be reading him, I don't particularly like nihilism, that's more of your father's speed…" she paused contemplating the book, "But I thought I should try to understand him. Maybe there's something there. I've been more interested in philosophy as of the late. I don't particularly prefer Sartre's views either. Perhaps I should try Comte?"

Philosophy just so happened to be one of the subjects most lacking in Gracefield's library, though he had read Plato's 'Apology of Socrates' when he was 7. At the time, he thought it had been a simple story, before recognizing it's more philosophical aspects when he was a bit older. Still, it seemed a bit too archaic to feel relevant to Norman.

"Why the sudden interest in philosophy?" he questioned. Norman never really saw a point in 'thinking about thinking' or any such nonsense, but maybe there was more to it.

Mel looked to be in deep contemplation, not really reading the book before her despite her eyes scanning the page, "Perhaps when you're faced with death you start to look for a meaning to life…though I don't believe I'll find anything in the words of dead philosophers, maybe it will spark some inspiration."

Normans eyes widened at the statement, as though he was struck with her mortality for the first time. She, too, looked surprised by her own words and quickly tried to double back, "Don't worry my dear. Death is nowhere near me at the moment."

Norman gazed at her, unconvinced, which she seemed to realize and sank back into her chair. They were quiet for a moment, the stillness of the house overtaking their conversation. Finally, Mel rose, settling herself on the other side of the couch. She beckoned Norman over and he obliged, settling himself next to her. She wrapped a delicate arm around his shoulder and pulled him closer.

The two remained quiet and cozy, Norman nestled under his mother's arm trying to spare glances at _The Gay Science_ as she read. Perhaps he skipped a few important parts, because he found the whole thing lacking in profundity.

Sleep's grip began to wrestle Norman down again and he relented, letting himself slip into the blackness. The soft murmurs of a man and a woman floated around him for a moment, before he felt himself lifted from the couch. Almost on instinct, he wrapped his arms around the neck of his bearer, sinking into their arms as the weight of sleep refused to relent.

Each step felt familiar. _**This has happened before. Ah...that memory.**_

It was the same heartbeat. The same pace. The same warmth.

James laid him in bed carefully and Norman complied, unlooping himself from around his neck near unconsciously and settled himself onto the matress. He rolled to the side, allowing the heavy comforter to encase him in a soft cocoon.

"Good night Norman." a small whisper from his father was punctuated with a tender kiss on his forehead and finally, Norman fell in an even deeper abyss of sleep.

…

_She was going. She was going to be gone!_

_**I have to catch her!**_

_With Ray in tow, he ran out the open field nearby where they had made camp. Many of the children, still recovering from the fire and attack, moaned and cried as they passed. _

_Norman winced, __**I did all this…**_

"_She should be over here!" Ray pointed out. The full moon hung high; it would be a perfect place to complete the ritual._

"_We've got to stop her!" Norman exclaimed, pushing his weakened body as far as it could go. No matter what, they'd find some way out of their situations _without _sacrifices._

_Ray said nothing, but kept pushing ahead with Norman. Something about his silence made him suspicious, __**Doesn't he want to save her too?**_

_Finally they reached her. Emma. Her orange hair glowed in the bright moonlight._

_She turned to face them, a weary smile on her lips, "Oh, it's you guys…"_

"_Don't 'Oh, it's you' me! You didn't even say goodbye!" Ray scolded, approaching. _

_Emma stepped back in response, "I left a note. I didn't want this to be painful for you."_

"_Who cares about that?!" Norman exclaimed, voice breaking through the night, "You don't have to do this Emma! We'll find another way! I don't care if we have to live in peace with the demons, I WANT YOU HERE!"_

_Emma paused until his outburst had finished and Norman was on his knees holding back tears, "I don't want you to go...I don't want you to…"_

"_Emma, please. There's got to be another way to go about this." Ray argued, though it sounded as if he knew it was futile. It sounded as though he'd given up on the possibility of her not doing this._

_There was a pause before Emma spoke up, "I don't want to go either."_

"_Emma…" Ray's voice was shaking. He bit his bottom lip as it quivered a bit._

"_I'm actually really...scared…" clutching onto her shirt, voice shaking, she sounded like a child, more so than she ever had. The pit in Norman's stomach grew._

_She seemed to compose herself for a minute, standing firmly about ten feet away from Norman and Ray. Behind her, Norman could see the golden water and flowers. Everything needed to open the gate._

"_I don't wanna go with him. I don't want to die. But I don't want you to die either. I don't want all the people I love to die because I didn't take this chance." Emma reaffirmed herself, standing tall. To Norman, she felt like a giant compared to him._

_Ray let out a strained noise before tackling Norman, pinning him down, his face in the dirt._

_He could only let out a gasped "Wha…?" before understanding the situation. This was their decision._

"_Thank you Ray!" Emma smiled as the door opened behind her. The intricate, nonsensical scrawlings on the outside gave way to a vast sea of shimmering white. She turned to face it._

"_NO! EMMA!"_

_But she ignored him. Ray let out a strangled scream, his grip on Norman's head and sleeve becoming tighter and his knee digging further into his back._

"_It's okay Norman. I have to do this so everyone will be safe. So we can all be happy. And even if I don't make it…even if I don't remember…" she turned back to them, a vibrant smile unmarred by tears._

"_I had so much fun, Norman! Ray!" she exclaimed before turning back to let the light consume her._

_It was silent for only a second, the boys sobs the only noise._

_Then a shot rang out._

_Looking up was Norman's worst nightmare realized. _

_Emma falling forward limply. Her once white blouse stained red. Falling into a place they could not follow. _

_Ray's knee and grip lifted almost the same time he willed his legs to move. They ran to her as the light consumed her slowly, reaching out to grab her before she could disappear._

_The world was silent. The only thing that mattered was getting to her._

_Except there were little stings of pain. It felt as though he was being ripped apart. His chest, his leg, his back, his shoulder, his arm._

_**Ah...I'm being shot…**_

_Bullets rained down upon them._

_**Ah...I'm dying…**_

_He grasped onto her shirt, Ray her arm._

_And they fell forward._

_And everything went black._

…

He woke up screaming.


End file.
